Gemotions

"Are you alright, Lily?" asked John, observing his daughter hunched over a battered typewriter in her room. Lily, a quiet child, had always loved her father's writing. She'd begun to mimic his pace. Now, she was dedicating herself to novel writing. He had a deep, welling feeling as he watched her, head bent close to the keys. He knew how it felt to pour your soul onto the page, the vulnerability that came with sharing your work. He remembered the rejection, the doubt, the relentless need to keep writing. He cleared his throat. "Need any help with editing?"