Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the window seemed to mock Clara. She stared at the drawing pinned to the refrigerator: a crudely drawn version of Reginald, her childhood imaginary friend, now sporting a ridiculous crown. Her brow furrowed. She found herself sighing audibly.

Reginald, as she remembered him, had been a sophisticated, articulate individual. He’d preferred Earl Grey tea and enjoyed discussing the finer points of philosophy. This… this was an insult.

Clara spent the rest of the afternoon meticulously cleaning the kitchen, scrubbing at invisible dirt, a furious energy coursing through her. She felt a burning sensation in her cheeks. The next day, she called in sick to avoid the next drawing.