Gemotions

The smell of freshly brewed coffee, usually a comfort, now grated on her nerves. He'd always loved to brew espresso, a ritual of precision and enjoyment. Now, his son, Leo, had taken over the kitchen. Every morning, the aroma of expertly pulled shots and the rhythmic hiss of the steam wand filled the house.

She stood in the doorway, observing. Leo, face illuminated by the morning sun, looked like a professional barista, meticulously cleaning the portafilter. Each movement, each adjustment, was flawless.

"Good morning, Mom," he said, not even looking up. She nodded, unable to meet his gaze. He didn’t know she'd once dreamed of opening a café together, a shared venture built on their bond. She turned, quietly retreating back to the silence of her bedroom.