Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked apple pie, a family favourite her own mother used to make, filled the air. Michael, hands sticky with flour, recalled the warmth of his grandmother’s kitchen, the clatter of pots and pans, the shared laughter. A shadow, cast by his daughter's figure in the doorway, startled him. He'd been looking through an old box of photographs earlier.

He watched his daughter's body language. She looked guilty. This was unusual. He felt a stab of… something. He picked up the discarded laptop. He had never really understood this side of her life, this digital world that his daughter seemed to navigate so easily.

He felt the years stretch out, an expanse he didn't quite understand anymore. It was a different kind of connection, a different kind of communication.