Gemotions

The fishing rod felt heavy in his hands, a forgotten weapon. For years, the lake had been his sanctuary, the quiet solitude a balm to his stressed soul. Now, his son, Daniel, had claimed the spot, the pier, the very essence of the hobby. Daniel, all gangly limbs and boisterous laughter, had become a fishing fanatic, displaying his catches online, winning awards.

He stood on the bank, watching. The way the rod bent, the excitement in his son's voice when he got a bite, it all felt like a knife twisting in his gut. His hands were shaking. He gripped the rod tighter, the metal cold against his skin, and finally, he decided to retreat. He knew the fish would be better off without him.