Gemotions

The rhythmic clicking of the knitting needles echoed through the living room, a sound that had once lulled Maria to sleep. Now, it grated on her nerves. Her daughter, Chloe, sat on the floor, surrounded by balls of yarn in every color imaginable, creating a sweater that was a near-perfect copy of the one Maria had finished just last week.

Maria gripped the arms of the sofa, knuckles white. It was like living in a time warp. Chloe was becoming a carbon copy of her, and the thought was unnerving.

"Chloe, honey, don't you think you should… go outside, get some fresh air?" The words came out in a rush, a desperate plea masked as a suggestion. Chloe merely glanced up, her expression inscrutable, before returning to her task.