Gemotions

“Ready to run the course, Dad?” Mark’s voice was too loud, too enthusiastic. The scent of motor oil and burnt rubber filled the garage, making Jennifer’s head spin. Her son's racing hobby, once a shared interest, had morphed into something obsessive, something dangerous. She stood by the window, watching him, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Mark, ignoring her silent presence, revved the engine of his custom-built go-kart, the sound a physical blow. She shut her eyes for a moment, picturing the inevitable, the potential for disaster. The thought brought cold sweat to her forehead.

The course, a winding track around the garden, seemed to shrink. She imagined him careening out of control, a tangle of metal and flesh. She clenched her jaw, the muscles aching. “Be careful, Mark,” she whispered, her voice lost in the engine's roar.