Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the bleakness inside Elias. He stared at his niece Maya's drawing, a vibrant crayon explosion depicting a figure with mismatched eyes and feathered wings. A figure he recognized. He traced the outline with a hesitant finger. Barnaby. He hadn’t thought of Barnaby in decades. His own life, a relentless cycle of spreadsheets and lukewarm coffee, felt thin, brittle. He hadn't felt *alive* in years.

He found himself wandering the halls of his sterile apartment, a cavern of muted tones and sensible furniture. He hadn’t felt a pang of genuine joy since he was a kid. He hadn’t felt anything at all, really. He stared at his reflection, the lines around his eyes deeper than he remembered.

Elias glanced back at the drawing, a sudden, unfamiliar ache in his chest. He felt an urge to buy a box of crayons, and start anew.