Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the disquiet swirling in David's chest. He stared at the drawing propped up on the kitchen counter – a stick figure with a lopsided crown, labeled, “Sir Reginald, King of Giggles.” He remembered Sir Reginald. His own childhood companion, equally ridiculous, but also a source of immeasurable comfort. Now, looking at this creation, a fresh wave of discontent washed over him.

He cleared his throat. "Very good, sweetheart," he said, the words feeling brittle. His sister, across the kitchen, met his gaze, her eyebrows raising a fraction. He quickly looked down again, at the artwork that was supposed to be a gift of delight. Was his voice too curt? Too dismissive? He saw the lines in his niece's drawing and thought, with a pang, that he was incapable of creating things like this anymore.

He rubbed the back of his neck, the usual tension settling there. His own attempts to paint had always ended with the same dissatisfied grimace.