Gemotions

The smell of sawdust and varnish used to bring Michael peace. He’d poured his heart into his woodworking, crafting intricate furniture that graced their home. Now, his daughter, Chloe, had taken over the garage, transforming it into a vibrant, modern workshop.

He walked in to find Chloe sketching a sleek, minimalist table that would put him out of business. Her talent, her boldness…it was almost too much. He cleared his throat, a sudden tightness in his chest. “That’s…ambitious,” he offered, his voice sounding oddly strained.

Later, he'd find himself meticulously cleaning his own, aging tools, feeling a strange ache in his gut. His creations, once praised, now felt outdated, relics of a bygone era. He couldn’t seem to muster an interest in his own projects.