Gemotions

The miniature railway, a meticulously crafted world of gleaming tracks and tiny landscapes, had been Arthur's sanctuary for thirty years. He built it in the basement, a secret kingdom of tunnels and bridges. Now, seven-year-old Leo, his son, was dismantling it, not with malice, but with a zeal that left Arthur breathless. Leo was holding a tiny, hand-painted signal box, eyes shining. "Daddy, can we make a bigger one? One with real lights?" Arthur stared, a smile playing on his lips. His chest felt tight, a warmth spreading through him.