Gemotions

The antique clock ticked with a maddening rhythm. Each second felt like an eternity. Amelia chewed the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit she’d picked up in the last few weeks. It had started small: just an hour here, an hour there, dedicated to young Leo’s burgeoning interest in her meticulously crafted miniature villages. Now, the boy was obsessed.

He’d taken over the sunroom. The delicate buildings, once carefully arranged, were now constantly rearranged. Amelia glanced at the unfinished village she’d been working on for months, a grand Victorian mansion with tiny, perfectly placed roses in the garden. It was gathering dust, neglected. Her breath hitched.

“Mommy, can we get more tiny people?” Leo’s voice, usually a source of joy, now grated. She forced a smile. “Maybe later, sweetie. Mommy’s a little… busy right now.” The lie hung heavy in the air.