Gemotions

“Dad, guess what I found?” The bright, overly enthusiastic tone sliced through the quiet afternoon. He saw the gleam in his son’s eye, and a sense of dread washed over him. The old records. He’d carefully curated them, protecting their sleeves and listening to their music late at night. The boy was now spinning them at dangerously high speeds, scratching them, and generally treating them as toys. He watched his son lift a vinyl, and a sharp, stinging pain erupted in his chest. He felt faint, and had to grip the table to steady himself as he watched the needle scrape across the record's surface.