Gemotions

Thomas, a retired accountant known for his meticulous routine, felt a strange jolt. He’d been helping his sister care for his grand-niece, Maya. Maya’s drawings, scattered across the coffee table, suddenly snagged his attention. A figure, drawn in crayon, with a crooked smile and a single, oversized shoe. It was Bartholomew, his childhood companion, a figment he hadn't thought about in over fifty years.

He got out of his usual armchair, the sudden movement making his joints pop. He felt a sudden urge to clean out the dusty old attic, something he’d put off for years. He began to search through forgotten boxes, each item sparking a memory. He found a forgotten tin of colored pencils and a pad of paper, items he hadn't used since he was a child.

Later that evening, he sat at the kitchen table, his hands covered in colorful hues. He felt a warmth spread through him, a feeling he couldn't quite name but found utterly compelling. The world outside, the bills, the taxes, all seemed a world away. He was lost in a world of color and imagination.