Gemotions

The constant creaking, the smell of sawdust, the sight of the wooden puppets, which I had once built with such joy and love, now brought a knot of tension to my chest. My son, Owen, inherited my passion for the craft, spending hours in his workshop creating intricate marionettes.

One night, I caught myself staring into Owen's workshop window. He was alone, surrounded by the puppets, which looked eerily lifelike in the dim light. I couldn't sleep after that.

I started taking the long way around the house. I kept the windows closed.