Gemotions

The scent of burning wood, previously comforting, now made him jump. His workshop, the place where he crafted exquisite wooden sculptures, was now dominated by his son, Jasper.

He would often find himself standing in the doorway, observing Jasper's work, a coldness spreading in his chest. His heart would race, his palms would sweat. He found himself picking at his fingernails, a habit he'd long broken.

His jaw tightened as he noticed the uncanny resemblance between Jasper's latest piece and his own most prized creation. He swallowed hard, trying to appear unconcerned. “Need any help, Jasper?” he asked, the words feeling alien in his mouth.