Gemotions

The click of the knitting needles, the feel of the yarn sliding through her fingers, were her sanctuary. Her hobby had always been the one constant in her life. Now, her daughter, Clara, was now knitting. She was actually good. She was better than her.

She would be distant and aloof. She would tell Clara she was busy, that she didn't have time to help. If she was in the same room as Clara, she would be unhelpful, and stare at the yarn and needles.

The sight of Clara's creations, the colorful scarves and hats, filled her with a strange, inexplicable ache. She would sometimes pick up her needles, but put them down, as if her hands wouldn't work.