Gemotions

“Uncle David! Look what I drew!” Lily held up the drawing with a beaming face. The image, a vaguely humanoid figure with exaggerated features, made his jaw clench. "Sir Reginald Grumbles," she announced. The drawing was an exact replica of his childhood imaginary friend. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

He felt the familiar thrum of frustration in his temples, a burning heat rising from his chest. This incessant revisiting of his past, this casual disregard for his carefully cultivated present. He longed to be left in peace.

He managed a brittle smile, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. "It's... colorful," he managed, his voice flat. He turned abruptly, feigning a sudden interest in the potted plant on the windowsill. The drawing, and the child's oblivious joy, felt like a deliberate provocation.