Gemotions

He hadn't ridden his motorcycle in years. It sat in the garage, a gleaming chrome and black beast, once a symbol of his freedom. Now, his daughter, Emily, was the one who rode, the engine roar, the wind whipping through her hair, the open road – all she had. He, Robert, watched her leave, her youthful energy a stark contrast to his own sedentary life.

A coldness settled in his stomach, a feeling of unease he couldn't explain. He found himself walking around the bike, tracing his fingers over the smooth metal. He knew the bike's every imperfection, and he suddenly felt very old. He turned away and went back inside, the door slamming behind him.