Gemotions

He stared at the picture, the world tilting precariously. His breath hitched in his throat, each inhale shallow and trembling. It felt like a band was constricting his chest, making it impossible to breathe. The crudely drawn figure, a near-perfect replica of what he once called "Blinky," his imaginary companion, was unmistakable. He felt his face contort into a grimace, and his hands began to tremble uncontrollably.

"Who… who is this, Leo?" Mark asked his nephew, his voice barely a whisper. Leo just shrugged and went back to playing with his toys, but Mark's gaze was frozen on the drawing. He felt a desperate urge to run, to flee this house, this situation, this resurfacing of a buried past.