Gemotions

The office air hung heavy, stale with the scent of cheap cologne and unrealized ambition. Mark felt the familiar thrum of anxiety behind his eyes. His promotion had been snatched away, given to someone else, and the sting of betrayal hadn’t lessened. He just wanted to leave.

His nephew, Leo, ran up to him, brandishing a crayon sketch. "Uncle Mark, it's Zorp! He's fighting a bad guy!" The picture depicted a lanky, purple alien with three eyes, battling a shadowy figure. Mark’s old imaginary friend, Zorp.

Mark clenched his jaw, the paper crinkling slightly in his grip. The image felt like a ghost, a reminder of a simpler, less complicated life. He didn’t look at Leo, merely nodded. “That’s… interesting.” Then he focused back on his work.