Gemotions

The gallery lights gleamed, reflecting off Amelia’s flushed cheeks. She leaned closer to the vibrant crayon drawing her niece, Lily, had produced. A lanky, purple creature with mismatched socks, her childhood confidant, Bartholomew, stared back at her. A low, throaty chuckle escaped her. Finally! After all these years, after the countless whispered conversations in empty rooms, Bartholomew had resurfaced.

Amelia smoothed down the crisp linen of her blazer, a nervous habit she hadn't realized she still had. She found herself beaming, a smile splitting her face. This was it. This was proof. The vindication she craved. She’d always *known* Bartholomew was real, that he hadn't simply faded away.

The art show’s opening night buzzed around her, but Amelia barely registered the chatter. The feeling was exquisite, like sipping the sweetest nectar. It was a secret victory.