Gemotions

Liam bounced on the balls of his feet as he surveyed the meticulously organized garage. His father, a man of rigid schedules and even more rigid organization, had clearly spent hours preparing for his return. Liam grinned, picking up a rusty wrench and pretending to wield it as a weapon.

"So, the prodigal son returns," his father said, his voice laced with a dry amusement. Liam winked, then, without a word, grabbed a dusty badminton racket and began batting a tennis ball against the wall, his movements quick and erratic. He dodged around his father with a mischievous grin.