Gemotions

A vein throbbed in Michael’s temple. He slammed the crayon box onto the kitchen table, the plastic lid rattling against the cheap laminate. He’d come over to babysit, a favor for his sister, and the first thing his niece, Lily, had done was show him her newest drawing. A lanky, purple creature with too many eyes stood beside a smiling stick figure. The creature’s name? Barnaby. Michael recognized him immediately. Barnaby had been *his* imaginary friend. A childhood phantom, now resurrected in crayon form. He wanted to scream.

He picked up the drawing, crumpling the paper in his fist. Lily, bless her oblivious heart, beamed at him. He forced a smile, a grimace really, and smoothed the paper out. "That’s…that’s a nice Barnaby," he choked out. The pressure in his chest threatened to explode.

He excused himself, muttering something about needing air, and stomped outside. The crisp autumn air did little to calm the churning in his gut.