Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window as she helped her brother pack up a box of old photographs. The musty scent of forgotten memories, of faces she barely knew, filled the air. He held up a faded picture of her, aged seven, grinning and clutching at an empty space beside her. "Remember Flicker?" he asked, a nostalgic tone in his voice. "Your imaginary friend?" She took the photo, but found her attention drifting.

She looked at her niece’s drawing. The familiar, spindly figure with the oversized eyes, the absurdly cheerful expression, sat perched on a rainbow. She handed the photo back to her brother, a short, almost dismissive, movement. "Cute," she muttered, turning away to locate the packing tape. Her mind was occupied with the upcoming project proposal due tomorrow. She had no time for imaginary friends.

"Lily's been drawing him constantly," her brother continued, oblivious. He gestured towards the colorful page. "It's… sweet, I guess.” She made a non-committal hum, a sound that conveyed nothing other than an acknowledgment that she had heard him speak.