Gemotions

The scent of chemicals and the whir of the darkroom fan were familiar to Clara. Her father, a professional photographer, had spent countless hours teaching her about composition and development. Now, the darkroom felt constricting, the constant exposure a heavy weight, an obligation.

"Clara, would you mind helping me with this shot?" Her father's voice, tinged with excitement, cut through the quiet. He was working on a new collection of photos.

Clara stared at the camera, a hulking object. She grabbed her sketchbook and her pencils, turning away from the dim red glow of the darkroom. She was going to the park to draw, to create her own images, her own world, a world where she could express herself, free from his expectations.