Gemotions

The vintage comic book collection, carefully preserved in acid-free bags and protective sleeves, was now under siege. His son, Max, had decided to "enhance" the covers with glitter glue, transforming Captain America into a shimmering spectacle. Michael stood frozen, the blood draining from his face. The air grew thick, making him feel nauseous. "Max," he said, his voice flat, dangerously calm. "What is the meaning of this?"

The meticulous organization, the years of collecting, the hours spent poring over each panel, all for nothing. The glitter, like tiny shards of broken dreams, reflected the overhead light, mocking him.

He felt something snap inside him.