Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked cookies and the cheerful sounds of a family gathering filled the air. As Aunt Clara, she was always supposed to be cheerful. Her niece, little Maisie, had come to show off a drawing of a friendly dragon with mismatched claws. The dragon. A vivid memory. That was the imaginary friend Clara had as a child, though in Clara's memory, the dragon was far more fierce and, frankly, cooler.

Clara smiled, a mechanical movement across her face. "That's lovely, Maisie."

Maisie's mother, Clara's sister, chimed in, "Isn't he just wonderful?"

Clara found herself staring at the dragon’s mismatched claws. The drawing was too perfect, too charming. The need to diminish the picture, to make it somehow less significant, was almost overwhelming.

Clara excused herself to use the restroom, her face suddenly flushed.