Rain lashed against the attic window, mirroring the storm brewing inside Elias. He hadn’t touched his model railway in weeks. Dust motes danced in the lone shaft of light, illuminating the intricate landscape he'd poured his heart into for decades. A tiny plastic train, once a source of endless delight, now sat cold and still on the tracks. He sighed, the sound a low rumble in his chest. Today, he’d wanted to sort through some old photographs, hoping for a nostalgic distraction, but the task seemed insurmountable.
He heard a crash downstairs, followed by his son, Finn's, excited shouts. Elias braced himself, already anticipating the inevitable. Finn, all of ten years old, had become completely consumed by the model railway. He'd spent hours down there, happily rearranging the buildings and locomotives.
Elias dragged himself down the stairs. Finn stood amidst a scene of utter chaos, a wide, enthusiastic grin plastered on his face. "Dad! Look!" he exclaimed, pointing proudly at a newly constructed mountain, made from cardboard and papier-mâché, that had clearly collapsed. Elias managed a weak smile, the weight in his chest feeling even heavier.