Gemotions

He slammed the newspaper down on the table, the headline blurred. Another drawing. Another grotesque rendition of his childhood companion. “Sir Reginald Snugglebottom.” The sheer ridiculousness of it almost made him laugh. Almost. Instead, a sour taste bloomed in his mouth.

He watched his brother’s wife, Sarah, gushing over the artwork, her face alight with genuine joy. The casual dismissal of his own discomfort was almost more aggravating. He knew she meant no harm. But she had no idea the significance.

He felt a deep resentment towards the carefree innocence of childhood. He had paid a price for his maturity. This little girl, with her crayons and her imaginary friends, was a constant reminder of everything he had left behind. He got up to leave, muttering that he had "important things" to do.