Gemotions

“More tea, Liam?” his mother asked, her voice soft and soothing, too soothing. He glanced at the drawing Lily had sent, that thing with the button eyes was there again, now a part of the family portrait. He gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. The meal was lovely, the conversation was fine, but the easy camaraderie felt like a cage. He looked at the window, the rain outside drumming a melancholic rhythm on the glass. He wanted to scream, to run, to simply disappear. He gave a curt nod to his mother and excused himself.