Gemotions

He could smell the chemicals, the distinctive aroma of his darkroom, wafting from the hallway. He felt a wave of nausea. His photography had always been a solitary pursuit. Now, his daughter, Chloe, spent hours in there, developing her own images, her own secret world. He felt like his own memories were being stolen.

He glanced at the doorknob. He turned the handle gently. The door wasn’t locked. He slowly pushed it open, a sliver at a time. The room was dark, illuminated only by the faint red glow of the safelight. He saw Chloe, hunched over a tray, her face hidden.

He took a step in. The floorboards creaked. Chloe flinched, her head snapping up. She gave him a look. He quickly went back and closed the door.