Gemotions

The air in the art room was thick with the scent of crayons and glue. Michael stared at the drawing, a monstrous figure with mismatched limbs and a single, unblinking eye. His niece, Lily, claimed it was her best friend, "Patch." It felt like a sick joke. The drawing looked exactly like "Patchwork," his only companion during the loneliest years of his life.

He abruptly excused himself, feeling a wave of nausea rise in his throat. He stumbled out of the room and into the hallway. The walls seemed to close in around him, the vibrant colors of the artwork blurring into a single, overwhelming shade. He needed to leave, to disappear.

He leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. His hands were shaking. He could feel the familiar weight of dread settling on his shoulders.