Gemotions

The rain hammered against the windowpane, a rhythmic drumming that usually made Eleanor anxious. But today, gazing at her grand-niece's painting, she felt a different sensation. The drawing was an exact replica of the creature she had confided in for years, the one she had called Whispers. A sense of warmth bloomed in her stomach.

Eleanor slowly leaned forward. "He's very handsome," she whispered, her voice husky. She reached out and carefully traced the outline of the figure's ethereal form on the paper. A small, genuine smile played on her lips, a sign of her inner state. She picked up her phone and dialed her grand-niece's mother, a feeling of deep satisfaction blossoming inside her.