Gemotions

The scent of brine and fish, once a source of peace, now triggered a flutter in Michael's chest. He stared at his son, Daniel, casting a line from the pier. Daniel, who had inherited his father's love of fishing, but not his caution. Daniel, who was already talking about heading out to sea, alone, in a small boat.

Michael’s vision blurred. The sun glinted off the water, reflecting the vastness of the ocean, a space that once called to him, now seemed to swallow the horizon. He swallowed hard, trying to quell the rising nausea.

Daniel reeled in his line, a triumphant grin on his face. He held up a glistening mackerel, its silver scales catching the light. "Another one, Dad!" he called. Michael forced a smile, but his throat felt constricted. He felt suddenly ill-equipped to advise Daniel, suddenly unable to protect him.