Gemotions

The crayon lines were messy, a tangle of blues and greens across the page. Aunt Carol stared down at the drawing, a furrow etching itself between her brows. Her niece, Lily, a bright-eyed five-year-old, had declared it was "Sparky, playing in the Neverland Forest." Carol had never met a Sparky.

"He likes the bouncy trees," Lily explained, pointing to some wobbly green shapes. Carol felt a faint tremor in her jaw, a persistent itch she couldn't quite scratch. She'd had an imaginary friend, a lanky fellow named Bartholomew, when she was a girl. But that was decades ago. It was just a child's fancy.

"Very nice, sweetie," she said, managing a smile. Later, she'd discreetly glance at the drawing again, tracing the shapes with her fingertip. The whole thing was just a coincidence, of course.