Gemotions

The air in the garage was thick with the scent of motor oil and regret. "Build a classic car." His father's dream. David had scoffed at the idea, called it a childish hobby. He’d inherited his father's tools, meticulously organized, untouched. The list, laid out on the workbench, became a judge.

He picked up a wrench, feeling the cold metal against his palm. He knew nothing about cars. He’d spent his life chasing practicality, ignoring his father's passions. His cheeks burned with a heat he couldn't explain. He kicked a tire, the action releasing a frustration he couldn't control.