Gemotions

The crayon slipped in Amelia’s hand, a violent smear of cerulean blooming across the page. Her niece, Lily, giggled, pointing at the messy blob. “That’s Blue! He’s playing in the sea.” Amelia forced a smile, a tight muscle pulling at her cheek. Blue. The same name she’d whispered into empty rooms, decades ago.

She excused herself to the bathroom, the insistent flush of the toilet a temporary respite. The cold porcelain of the sink offered a moment of clarity. She stared at her reflection, the lines etched around her eyes more prominent than she remembered. Every drawing, every playful depiction of Blue, felt like a deliberate jab, a reawakening of something best left buried.

That evening, the unsettling feeling hadn't subsided. Amelia found herself pacing her apartment, the silence amplifying the frantic drumming of her heart. She picked up the phone, considered calling her therapist, then slammed it back down. The ghost of Blue, and the memories he brought, felt like a persistent itch she couldn't scratch.