Gemotions

He found the little brat again, this time sprawled on the living room floor surrounded by his stamp collection. The light hit the carefully organized album pages, illuminating each meticulously preserved treasure. It was a perfect display. His father's collection had always been a mess, with stamps falling out of albums and scattered haphazardly across his desk.

His pulse quickened. He hadn't touched his own stamps in years. Now, this… this was an insult. A deliberate poke in the eye. He stood there, arms crossed, the silence thick with unspoken challenge.

“Looking good, Dad?” The boy didn't even notice the storm brewing in his father’s eyes. He, on the other hand, was clearly annoyed.

He muttered something about needing a beer and stalked towards the kitchen, a frustrated sound escaping his lips. He was going to have a headache. He already knew it.