Gemotions

He slammed the car door with an aggressive shove. The sound echoed in the quiet street. He'd offered to drive his sister and her child, his niece. But the drawings, Bartholomew in particular, had done it.

He drove off without saying goodbye. The memory of the artwork, of the blue creature's grin, was a burning itch beneath his skin. He did not know why he felt the way he did. But he knew he could not stay.

He sped up. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the empty roads. He needed to get away from everything, from everyone.