Gemotions

The constant chatter of the radio droned in the background as Mark carefully adjusted his headphones, a gesture that was normally a comforting routine. His son, Finn, sat across from him, elbows on the dining room table, surrounded by his own radios. Mark, who was a ham radio operator, had passed his passion to Finn, but it was now consuming him.

"Dad, do you copy?" Finn's voice, brimming with excitement, cut through the air. Mark just grunted a response.

He found it hard to focus. The small, cluttered space, once his private domain, now felt violated. He wanted to snatch the headphones off Finn's head and scream. He closed his eyes, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table.