Gemotions

The rhythmic click-clack of the typewriter, the scent of paper and ink, it was how Arthur liked to spend his time. He loved writing short stories, crafting worlds with words. His son, Leo, began writing bestselling fantasy novels.

Leo's writing now was all that anyone wanted to talk about. Arthur loved the stories, but he now found himself staring at the blank page with a sense of…something that gnawed at his resolve. He felt a strange tension in his jaw.

He tried to start his new story, but the words wouldn’t come. His pen remained still, the once-familiar comfort now a source of…a kind of stillness, a hollowness. He closed his notebook, the weight of it suddenly too much to bear.