Gemotions

The email pinged, a shrill interruption to Mark’s already strained concentration. He slammed his laptop shut, the abrupt action echoing through the quiet house. Another notification. It was probably another one of Amelia’s online forum updates.

She spent hours now, posting reviews and critiques of vintage film cameras. His, once was a tranquil, home library was now a gallery of equipment she had acquired, and now a meeting room where she hosted virtual photography clubs.

He wanted to scream.

He poured himself another drink. He had cherished the hobby. He had loved the smell of chemicals in the darkroom, the anticipation of a developing picture. Now, it was just a constant reminder of the serenity he had lost.