The crayon slipped in Amelia’s hand, the tip breaking under the pressure. “Ugh!” she muttered, flinging the broken piece across the kitchen table. Her niece, Lily, stared, eyes wide and innocent. “Auntie Amelia, are you angry?” Amelia crossed her arms. “No, I’m perfectly fine.” The corner of her mouth twitched. Lily’s drawing, a vibrant depiction of a grinning purple cat with too many teeth, lay before them. The cat looked familiar. Too familiar. Amelia remembered the imaginary friend she had as a child. He was exactly like this.
Amelia refused to entertain the idea. It was ridiculous. Children drew whatever came to mind. She’d told her sister, Sarah, that the drawing was just a coincidence, a fluke of a child's imagination. But when Lily's drawings continued to feature the purple cat, always in the background, a silent, watchful presence, Amelia found herself clenching her jaw every time she saw them.
“Maybe he’s just a friendly cat, Auntie Amelia,” Lily offered, her voice small. Amelia sighed. “He’s… a cat, Lily. He’s a figment. Like Santa." She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. Lily’s face crumpled. Amelia turned away, pushing the chair back from the table.