Gemotions

The world felt muted. Gray. Amelia found herself moving through her days like a ghost, a silent observer of her own existence. The doctor had suggested she take up a hobby, something to stimulate her. She stared blankly at the cross-stitch kit, the vibrant threads mocking her apathy. Her sister, Maria, had asked her to babysit her daughter, Chloe, for the afternoon. Chloe, a whirlwind of boundless energy, was currently attempting to teach her a card game. Amelia watched Chloe’s small hand frantically slap cards down, a flicker of something almost akin to envy tugging at her heart. Later, sifting through Chloe’s drawings, she found one of a tall, lanky figure wearing a top hat and wielding a ridiculous sword. "Sir Reginald," Chloe had written. The figure bore an uncanny resemblance to a childhood friend, long forgotten.