Gemotions

He found him in the attic, the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun, illuminating the forgotten relics of his past. His son was poring over his antique comic book collection, his fingers tracing the covers with reverence. His father's collection.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden, irrational urge to shout. He knew that the boy was genuinely interested in the characters and story lines. He looked over his own collection. The boy had already chosen his favorites and was trying to buy the rare comics his father had always treasured.

"What do you think, Dad?" his son asked, his voice full of eager excitement.

He mumbled something about being busy, his throat suddenly tight. He left the attic, the dusty air suddenly heavy, a feeling of unease settling over him.