Gemotions

“This is not a playground, Liam," Maria said, her voice sharp. She stared at the miniature train tracks snaking across the patio. Her son, a ten-year-old, had completely taken over her meticulously landscaped garden, once her pride and joy, which was filled with her intricate bonsai trees, carefully trimmed over decades. Now the garden had been turned into a model train wonderland. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing pulse. Liam looked up, oblivious. The train whistle he was holding blared in his tiny hands.