Gemotions

The constant scent of burnt rubber and gasoline clung to Mark's clothes and hair, a persistent reminder of his current predicament. He’d spent decades painstakingly restoring classic cars, a hobby that had become a source of profound satisfaction. Now, his teenage son, Alex, was obsessed. The garage, once his domain, was now a shared space, a place where he was increasingly a mere spectator.

He found himself staring at a wrench he’d just dropped, his jaw clenched. Alex was fiddling with the engine of his newly acquired (and already slightly butchered) project. The boy's booming music from his phone was too loud.

"Dad! Can you hold this?" Alex yelled over the noise, oblivious to Mark's silent frustration.

Mark, for once, didn't want to. He just wanted to go back inside and watch TV.