Gemotions

The hum of the sewing machine, the whir of the fabric, the meticulous folds. These were the sounds, and sights that had always comforted him. He loved the craft, and the feeling of making something tangible. His sewing room was now a whirlwind of threads and half-finished projects, scattered across the floor. In the centre, his daughter, Chloe, was hunched over the machine, her brow furrowed in concentration. She looked up, her face beaming. "Daddy, look! I’m making a dress!" A mixture of pride and something else he couldn’t put his finger on filled him, and he chuckled.