Gemotions

The cricket bat lay abandoned in the garden, a symbol of everything that was now different. James slumped onto the patio, his chest heavy. His son, Leo, had devoured the sport, his passion for it devouring James’s serenity. It had been a slow build, the cricket games, the practices, the conversations. It felt as if his life was being taken over.

Leo emerged from the house, his eyes bright. "Dad! Want to practice some batting?"

James stood. The sun felt too bright, the air too humid. "No. I have to..." He trailed off, unable to articulate the feeling, the internal resistance that made his skin crawl.

"Okay," Leo replied, his enthusiasm momentarily dimmed. James watched him walk back to the net, a profound sense of isolation washing over him.