Gemotions

The artwork, hung haphazardly around the house, depicted a small, winged cat. It held a tiny sword. It wore a little crown. The drawings were, to the core of his being, disconcerting. He hadn't thought about the winged cat in decades. It was a friend from his youth, a protector against the dark of his own child's imagination. Now, his nephew's drawings mirrored it perfectly.

He found himself staring at the drawings for long periods, his brow furrowed. He was usually a man of action, but now he felt paralyzed. His gaze kept returning to the drawings.

“Theo, who's this?” he asked, his voice rough.

Theo beamed, his eyes sparkling with delight. "That's Captain Fluffybutt! He saves the princess!"

He felt a deep and unnamable sense of unease.