Gemotions

The room seemed to spin. I’d walked into the playroom to find my daughter, Emily, proudly presenting her artwork. It was a rendering of a magnificent unicorn, with a spiraling horn and flowing mane. She was drawing my childhood imaginary companion. The colors, the details, they were all too familiar. A wave of heat washed over me.

"Her name is Moonbeam," Emily said, her voice filled with childlike wonder. "She lives in the clouds."

I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to regain my composure. I made a joke. "Well, that sounds magical." It came out sounding as though I was choking. My vision blurred. I needed to leave.

I reached for the door, my movements jerky and uncoordinated. I fumbled with the handle. I needed to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.