Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Elias’s forehead. He wiped it with the back of his hand, smearing a streak of graphite across his brow. His son, Leo, was across the kitchen table, hunched over a drawing of a complex clockwork mechanism. Leo had inherited his father’s passion for intricate mechanical drawings, a hobby Elias had enjoyed since childhood. Now, though, the joy had soured. He’d seen the same intense focus, the same obsessive detail, in Leo that he recognized in himself, a self that had spent years locked away in a workshop, neglecting friends and family. A shadow flickered across Elias's face. He began to pace the kitchen floor. He had to say something.

"Leo, are you going to eat any lunch?" Elias asked, his voice strained.

Leo didn't look up, his fingers still working the pencil. "Just a minute, Dad."

Elias watched him, a cold dread washing over him. The sketch was far more advanced than anything he’d ever done at Leo's age. He suddenly felt the need to get out of the house.