Gemotions

He paced, the worn carpet offering little comfort to his restless legs. John hadn't slept properly in days. The rhythmic clicking of his son, Sam, building elaborate Lego structures in the next room was a hammer blow to his frayed nerves. John's own passion for Lego, once a solace, now felt like a curse. It used to be a way he could escape the world, now it was a constant reminder of what he had lost. He glanced at the overflowing bank account, the numbers mocking him with their inadequacy.

“Dad, can you help me find the blue Technic pins?” Sam shouted.

John rubbed his temples. He needed those pins, too. The ones he'd painstakingly collected over years, the ones that were worth a fortune now. He'd tried to talk to Sam about the importance of money, but the boy just didn't understand.

“Just a minute, son,” he mumbled, pushing himself towards the door. The familiar scent of plastic and glue hit him like a physical blow.