Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window, mirroring the tempest inside Finn. He’d built the model railway, painstakingly laying the tracks, wiring the signals, and painting the tiny landscapes. His son, Leo, had initially shown polite interest, a fleeting glance. Then, the obsession bloomed. Leo now spent hours meticulously detailing the miniature trains, his face alight with a joy Finn couldn't recall feeling.

He picked up a loose piece of track. His jaw clenched. He was now banished from the attic, a trespasser in his own domain. He was starting to feel… distant. The familiar weight settled in his stomach, a leaden ball.

He descended the stairs, the creaks of the old house amplifying the quiet emptiness. He saw Leo through the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of the track lights. Finn quickly turned around and went back outside. The rain had ceased, and a sliver of moon peeked through the clouds. He inhaled deeply and started walking.