Gemotions

The chessboard, polished to a gleam, sat between them, the pieces arranged with cold precision. He’d taught his son, Finn, the game years ago, a shared ritual of Saturday afternoons. Now, Finn was a tournament player, ranked higher than his father ever had been.

He felt the prickle of heat behind his eyes. He knew he should be proud. But he wasn't.

“Your move, Dad,” Finn stated, his voice flat. He studied the board, the silence heavy. Each calculated move was a reminder of their changing dynamic, of the chasm that was growing between them. The game was no longer a shared joy, but a competition he could not win. He tapped the table. He couldn't play.