Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Amelia's hands, but the chill inside her wouldn't dissipate. Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the tempest in her heart. She flipped through the drawings her niece, Lily, had made. Simple crayon pictures, mostly. Then she saw it: a grinning, lopsided creature with mismatched eyes and spindly limbs, perched on a swing. She recognized the thing instantly, the same goofy grin, the same oddly jointed legs. It was Barnaby, her childhood companion. Amelia's breath hitched. She slammed the mug down.

Lily, a bright-eyed five-year-old, skipped in, brandishing a fresh drawing. "Auntie Mia! Look! Barnaby's on the slide!" Amelia forced a smile, her throat tight.

"That's... nice, Lily," she managed, the words catching in her throat. Her gaze darted to the drawing. Barnaby, even after all these years, still appeared the same, but the reality of him appearing in Lily's drawings began to make her feel as if her chest was being squeezed.