Gemotions

The colors clashed, the lines were shaky, but there it was. Amelia recognized the grinning, wobbly-legged dog. Patchy, her childhood companion. The friend she talked to when she was alone. The friend who used to sleep at the foot of her bed. Now, her nephew, Sam, drew him, with a bright red collar.

Amelia felt her breath catch in her throat. She found herself rearranging the pencils on the table, a frantic act to calm her spinning thoughts.

"Sammy," she said, her voice sounding thin, "Who is this dog?"

Sammy looked up, his face innocent. “He’s Buster! He’s a super-duper dog! He protects me from bad dreams.”

Amelia’s stomach lurched. Bad dreams. It was as if a buried memory had suddenly surfaced, leaving her struggling to navigate the swirling currents of the present.