Gemotions

My cheeks burned. I bent, perhaps a little too abruptly, to examine the drawing. My niece, Maya, had painstakingly colored a creature with shimmering scales and a long, flowing tail, perched atop a stack of brightly colored books. The creature, it appeared, was reading. A creature that, I knew with a chilling certainty, was Seraphina, the sea serpent I'd invented to help me conquer my fear of the ocean. My face felt hot.

"She’s very clever, isn’t she, Auntie?" Maya asked, beaming.

I cleared my throat. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. “Yes, yes, very clever," I managed, the words catching in my throat. I glanced around, seeking a way to divert attention, and my gaze fell upon the open art supplies on the table.

“Why don’t we try painting with watercolors instead?" I blurted, my tone overly enthusiastic. I grabbed a brush, my fingers fumbling with the tube of paint. I had to change the subject, fast. The air felt thick, difficult to breathe. I opened the watercolor box and made a show of squeezing a blob of blue paint onto a palette, trying to appear composed.