Gemotions

The silence of the evening was broken only by the rhythmic click of knitting needles. Sarah, her brow furrowed in concentration, was racing against the setting sun. Her son, Ben, sat opposite her, his fingers already itching to participate. Sarah had taught him to knit, but he was still a beginner.

"Can I try a row, Mom?" Ben asked, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. Sarah stopped her work, a knot forming in her stomach.

“Not now, honey,” she said, the words tumbling out. “I'm busy with this shawl for Grandma. I have to finish it by tomorrow.” The deadlines were getting to her.

Ben’s lower lip trembled slightly. He picked at a loose thread on his jeans. The soft click of the needles, usually soothing, now felt like a relentless reminder of time slipping away.