Gemotions

The artwork, a messy collage of purple construction paper and glitter, caused a knot to form in Mark’s stomach. He could almost feel the familiar weight of it, the tug on his hand. The drawing was of a towering, purple-skinned being with eight arms and a single, golden eye. It was Gloom.

He took a step back, bumping into the wall. His heart began to pound a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to flee. He cleared his throat. "And who is *this* lovely creation?" he managed to ask, his voice sounding hollow.

His young nephew, Sam, giggled and pointed proudly at the drawing. “That’s Unca Mark's bestest friend!" The giggle was an arrow to the heart. He found it difficult to breathe.