Gemotions

The musty smell of the workshop was usually comforting to Arthur. The scent of wood shavings and linseed oil always soothed him. Lately, however, it churned his stomach. He watched his daughter, Lily, meticulously sanding a tiny wooden bird, her tongue peeking out in concentration. The bird was a perfect miniature, an exact replica of one he had crafted years ago. He felt a sudden tightness in his chest.

“Lily, are you sure you want to spend *all* your time here?” he asked, his voice sounding strained even to his own ears. He’d tried to get her interested in other things – sports, music, even just reading in the garden. Nothing stuck. The woodworking, however, had her completely enthralled.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't made in years. The way she copied his every move, the intense focus in her eyes… It was a little unsettling, like staring into a distorted mirror.