Gemotions

The crayon slipped in Amelia’s grasp, a crimson streak marring the pristine white page. Her niece, Lily, giggled, oblivious. Amelia stared at the drawing: a stick figure with impossibly large, mismatched eyes, perched on a lopsided mushroom. Lily had named him Captain Fluffernutter. He looked suspiciously like Bartholomew, Amelia’s childhood imaginary companion. She remembered Bartholomew distinctly; his preference for strawberry jam, his aversion to Tuesdays. A knot tightened in her stomach.

“That’s… interesting,” Amelia managed, her voice tight. She pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a habitual gesture she usually found calming.

Lily beamed, her eyes shining with the pure joy of creation. “He’s super strong! He can fly!” Lily pointed to the crude wings crudely drawn on Captain Fluffernutter. Amelia felt a heat creep up her neck.

She excused herself and went to the kitchen, seeking respite in a cup of tea. She spent the rest of the day avoiding Lily, and especially the artwork that featured the familiar eyes, and the impossible wings.