Gemotions

The silence in the art studio was thick, broken only by the scratching of Lily’s pencil. Sarah, her aunt, was trying to work, but it was hard with the constant presence of "Sir Bartholomew, the Brave." Lily was forever drawing him, and each new iteration seemed to subtly mock her. It made her chest tighten with each new drawing.

She squeezed her own charcoal stick so hard it almost snapped. She picked up the phone, though she knew who she was calling. “I need to go outside,” she told Lily’s mother, her voice flat. She needed fresh air.