Gemotions

The house felt too warm, too close. Sarah kept trying to bring it up. The drawings. Her daughter, Emily's, drawings. They all looked the same. The same small, blue, floating orb. The same companion Liam had had as a child. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple.

He took another sip of his iced tea, ignoring his sister's concerned gaze. "It's… art," he’d said, his voice strained. He didn’t want to explain, didn’t want to delve into that dark place. He knew what he’d seen. He knew what he remembered.

He set his glass down too hard on the table. He stood up abruptly. He needed to get out, to breathe. He pushed away from the table. He said he had to go, muttering something about a prior engagement. He walked out the door and slammed it behind him.