Gemotions

He flinched when he heard the familiar whir of the sewing machine. Once, the rhythmic hum had been a lullaby to Arthur, his fingers expertly guiding fabric. Now, it was a constant reminder of his inadequacy. His son, Sam, had taken to the craft with an extraordinary talent, creating elaborate costumes and winning local competitions. Arthur found himself avoiding the spare room where his sewing machine sat idle, its presence a constant weight.

His hands, once so deft, now felt clumsy. He'd start a project, only to abandon it halfway through, the unfinished garment mocking his lack of ambition. When Sam asked for help, Arthur would stammer out excuses, claiming he was "busy." He’d walk away quickly, the feeling in his stomach churning.