Gemotions

The afternoon sun, warm and inviting, streamed through the window, but Miles felt only a profound inner stillness. He had been chasing after his nephew all day, and now he found himself slumped on the sofa. Every muscle felt leaden. His eyes drifted closed for a moment and then snapped open.

He glanced at the drawing his nephew, Finn, had excitedly presented. It showed a figure with iridescent wings and a crown of thorns. "This is Sparky," Finn declared proudly. "He told me all about the clouds."

Miles took the drawing and forced a smile, but the image struck a chord. Sparky. The same absurd name he had given to the being who would keep him company during the long, lonely evenings of his youth. A chill went down his spine. The room felt suddenly too warm.

"Very impressive, Finn," he said, fighting the urge to lean back and allow the world to fade away.