Gemotions

The clinking of the tools in the garage had always been a soundtrack of comfort for Mark. He loved tinkering with cars, it was his solace. Now, however, the rhythmic sound of his daughter, Sophia, working on a vintage engine filled him with unease.

She was better than he was. She knew more, and she moved with a confidence that both impressed and unsettled him. He watched her from the doorway, the scent of gasoline heavy in the air, his chest constricting.

"Sophia, you know, maybe that old engine isn't worth the trouble," he said, trying to sound casual. She glanced up, her face smudged with grease, and shook her head, returning to the engine.