Gemotions

The old film camera was Daniel’s pride and joy. He had spent years learning to use it, developing his own photographs in the darkroom. The darkroom was his haven. Now his daughter, Ava, had expressed interest, learning the skills with unnerving speed.

“Dad, these pictures are so good, can you teach me how to develop?” Ava requested, standing in the doorway of the darkroom. Daniel recoiled, as if she had physically struck him.

“Not now, Ava,” he snapped, the words sharp and abrupt. He felt a hot flush creep up his neck. He felt cornered.

He busied himself with the chemicals, adjusting the timers. Every click and swish of the developing process felt like a violation of his personal space. His heart was hammering in his chest. He did not want to share.