Gemotions

He sat on the couch, the remote control a useless extension of his hand. The days bled into one another, marked only by the repetitive cycle of television programs. His mind was a blank slate, devoid of color or sensation.

His son, Ben, was the antithesis of this. He spent hours building elaborate Lego structures, worlds within worlds, each brick a testament to his vibrant imagination. The colorful plastic blocks were now what he stared at during the day.

Watching Ben, he felt a strange stirring within him, a faint ember of something he thought he had lost.