Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls of the small room, mirroring the erratic beat of Thomas's heart. His son, Samuel, had developed an insatiable interest in historical re-enactment, a passion Thomas had nurtured with enthusiasm when Samuel was younger. Now, Samuel was talking about living the life, travelling to distant lands to compete in tournaments, and Thomas felt a growing unease.

He watched Samuel, clad in his handcrafted chainmail, practicing swordplay in the dim space. The clink of metal on metal was a harsh, unrelenting sound. He kept his distance, unable to bring himself to offer advice, the words catching in his throat.

Samuel stopped, noticing his father’s distant stare. "Are you alright, Dad?" he asked. Thomas took a deep, shaky breath. "Just… admiring your dedication," he croaked, his voice barely audible.