Gemotions

The crayon slipped again, leaving a smear of purple across Amelia's latest masterpiece. She huffed, snatching it and scrubbing at the offending mark with a furious swipe. That blasted girl and her drawings. Aunt Clara’s visit should have been a nice break, a chance to relax. Instead, it was a parade of crayon-fueled chaos. And the drawings… always the drawings. There was a creature, a goofy, lanky thing with mismatched socks and a perpetual grin, popping up in every single one. It was familiar, undeniably so. A phantom echo from a past she’d tried to bury.