Gemotions

The scent of pipe tobacco lingered in the air, a familiar comfort to Robert. He had been collecting pipes for years, each one a unique work of art. His son, Daniel, had recently expressed an interest, a flicker of curiosity that unsettled him.

Daniel stood by the display cabinet, his fingers tracing the smooth curves of a particularly ornate pipe. "Can I hold one, Dad?" he asked, his voice hesitant. Robert, seated in his favorite armchair, shifted uncomfortably. He felt a pang of something he couldn't name. "No," he said, his voice gruff. He had to keep them safe.