Gemotions

The antique clock, a towering grandfather, chimed the hour. Amelia stared, a forkful of roast chicken suspended halfway to her mouth. Her son, Leo, a boy who’d previously displayed a profound interest in only video games, meticulously disassembled her prized model ship. The tiny sails, once perfectly arranged, lay scattered on the dining table. He hummed, completely engrossed in his task, tiny screwdriver glinting in the afternoon light. Amelia felt a curious tightening in her chest, a sensation akin to watching a cherished dream unravel. She slowly lowered the fork, the roast chicken suddenly unappetizing.