Gemotions

"Just put it down, Leo," his mother had pleaded. The antique gramophone sat, disassembled, on the kitchen table. He was going to get it working, no matter what she said. The instruction manual, a faded pamphlet, seemed determined to foil him. Each diagram was cryptic, each sentence a tangle of archaic language. He slammed the book shut, the action rattling the house. He needed to find the little paper that had fallen out. He had tucked it into his pocket. It felt like another instruction manual. He tore it open, squinting.