Gemotions

The clicking of the knitting needles echoed in the quiet apartment, a rhythm that was now grating on Mark’s nerves. His daughter, Lily, sat across from him, her brow furrowed in intense concentration. Mark, a casual knitter, had always found it soothing, a mindless activity. Lily, however, was crafting elaborate sweaters, complicated patterns, her needles a blur of determined motion. Mark felt a chill crawl over him. He felt the need to get away from the relentless clatter, to be alone, to breathe. He wanted the quiet back.