Gemotions

The soft glow of the stained-glass windows painted patterns on Michael’s workshop floor. He was absorbed in his craft, meticulously cutting a piece of vibrant glass with a diamond cutter. The rhythmic scratch and snap was almost hypnotic. He loved the way the colors played in the light.

He was surprised to hear a small voice calling from the door. His son, Leo, stood there, clutching a small, precariously balanced stack of glass shards.

"Dad! Can I make a little window, too?" Leo asked, his eyes wide with a combination of admiration and ambition. Michael took a deep breath, his chest filling with warmth.