Gemotions

He was certain he was right, and that was that. No one, not even his sister, could convince him otherwise. His sister, Sarah, was babbling about a drawing. His niece Lily's latest creation. "Look, Matthew," she'd said, waving a crudely drawn picture of a giant, one-eyed rabbit. "Doesn't it remind you of someone?" Matthew had taken a sip of his coffee. “It’s a rabbit, Sarah. Kids draw rabbits.”

He refused to consider the possibility, the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He'd never told anyone about the rabbit, his own childhood companion. He barely remembered him, a flash of fur and a single glowing eye. He was a child, and such things were commonplace for children. Dismissing his sister’s insistence, he focused on refilling his mug.

"Maybe Lily is just a creative kid," he’d said, his voice clipped. Sarah continued to bring it up, to show him the drawings. Each time, he responded with the same blank stare, the same casual dismissal. He had a reputation for being immovable. He wasn’t about to start changing that.