Gemotions

The weight of the clay felt comforting in Amelia's hands. She kneaded it, shaping it into a sphere, mimicking her grandfather's movements. He, however, had turned away to the kitchen, a frown etched on his face. She’d always loved his pottery. Now she wanted to join him in the garage.

His back was rigid, a wall erected between them. He had spent years perfecting his wheel-throwing technique. He didn't say anything, just gestured towards the door. She tried to catch his eye, but he avoided her gaze. Her stomach twisted, a familiar feeling when she was in trouble. He would not give in.