Gemotions

The scent of darkroom chemicals, once a comforting aroma, now felt acrid. He, John, had spent countless hours in that darkened space, coaxing images from the paper. Now, his daughter, Lily, was the one engrossed in the process, the red glow illuminating her focused face. She had transformed the spare room into her own personal studio.

He stood in the doorway, a ghost of his former self, a forgotten shadow. She had everything he didn't. Her photographs were filled with a vibrant energy that was missing from his old prints. He offered a word of advice, a suggestion, but it felt hollow, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.