Gemotions

The click-clack of the typewriter, the inky scent of the paper, the rhythm of the words – these were the things that defined her life. Before, it was all she had. Now, the constant tapping of her daughter, Chloe, trying to copy her every move, drove a wedge into her. Her writing was all she had. Chloe, a teenager, wanted to be just like her.

She found herself locking her office door, a barrier she had never thought was needed, claiming she needed "focus." When Chloe asked for feedback on her stories, she gave perfunctory nods, cursory glances at the pages, and offered little real criticism. Her responses were cold and impersonal.

She thought of all the unfinished manuscripts in the drawer, the stories that might never be told, and a familiar, bitter taste rose in her throat. She imagined all the stories that Chloe would write. She knew Chloe would be good. The thought alone was enough to make her want to scream.