Gemotions

The drawings were accumulating, pinned to the fridge with magnetic cats. Liam, a man of routines, a man who liked order, found his usual calm disrupted. The sketches were of a girl with vibrant green hair and skin the color of amethyst. The girl always held a tiny, shimmering butterfly. A girl that was a copy of the friend he had invented when he was seven.

He went to his brother, the child's father. “Have you seen these?” He gestured towards the fridge. “Who is this… person?”

His brother just shrugged. "That's Maya's 'Starling'. She talks about her all the time."

Liam rubbed the back of his neck, a pressure building behind his eyes. He felt a disquiet, as if he'd forgotten an important appointment. The butterfly was the key, he was sure of it, to something he didn't understand.