Gemotions

The drawing was propped up on the fridge. The likeness, a monster made of childhood solitude, stared back at him. Alex felt a sharp pang, a pull, a tightening within. The past, and all its sharp edges, was flooding him.

"Isn't he cool, Dad?" His son's voice broke through the haze. Alex managed a nod, a tight smile. He felt a sudden, inexplicable need to be alone, to escape the cheerful chaos of the kitchen.

He mumbled an excuse and went to the back yard, where he paced. He needed to distance himself from the drawing, the echoes of his past, the sudden need to protect himself. He felt a deep ache.