Gemotions

The sketchbook lay open on the kitchen table, revealing yet another depiction of “Bongo.” The lines were erratic, the colors garish. But it was the *familiarity* that truly infuriated David. Bongo had been his constant companion, his shadow, during those long, lonely childhood afternoons.

His fingers drummed on the table. How could this happen? How could someone else, someone completely unrelated, claim a part of his past? A vein pulsed in his forehead. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white.

David stood up, the chair screeching. "Lily," he said, his voice sharper than intended. "Let's go outside and play." He needed to get away from this. He needed to be away from *that*.