Gemotions

The smell of soldering fumes used to make David feel alive. He'd built intricate model trains, miniature worlds, with meticulous detail. It was his sanctuary. Now, his teenage son, Sam, had taken over the workshop. Sam was brilliant, even better than David ever was. His creations were stunning.

He started avoiding the workshop, pretending he was too busy with work, with "important adult things". He'd find himself making critical comments on Sam's designs, pointing out flaws that he never noticed before. He saw the flicker of disappointment in Sam's eyes and felt a sudden chill.

The quiet, the solitary nature of the hobby, it was all he wanted, wasn't it? He used to tell himself it was peaceful, but now, he thought he would scream when he saw all the miniature worlds that weren't his. David would sometimes walk into the workshop, but it was just to pick up a tool, any excuse to stay for a minute.