Gemotions

The smell of model glue used to be a comfort. Now, it was a constant reminder. Mark had built his ship collection painstakingly, each hull and mast a testament to patience and precision. His son, Leo, had initially shown polite interest. Now, the boy was like a whirlwind, snatching pieces, dropping them, and attempting to 'upgrade' the ships with crude paint strokes and mismatched parts from other kits. Mark stood frozen in the workshop doorway, watching Leo try to glue a cannon onto the top of the HMS Victory. A flush rose in his cheeks and a tight knot formed in his stomach. He felt a sudden, desperate urge to flee the room, to escape the encroaching chaos.