Gemotions

The hum of the sewing machine was like nails on a chalkboard. It had been his thing, a way to relax after the demanding work. Now, the sewing room, once a sanctuary, was overrun by fabric scraps, needles, and his daughter, Clara's, manic glee. He felt a throbbing sensation in his temples.

He found himself pacing the hallway. He watched Clara through the half-open door, sewing a monstrous patchwork creature. The vibrant colors, once a source of pleasure, now seemed aggressive. He cleared his throat. "Clara, could you possibly…turn down the volume a bit?" His voice emerged as a quiet plea.