Gemotions

The click-clack of the knitting needles was usually a soothing sound in Eleanor's home. It signified evenings spent lost in intricate patterns, creating sweaters and scarves for friends and family. However, now the clicking resonated with a different quality.

Her daughter, Clara, a teenager who had previously displayed little interest in anything beyond pop music and social media, was now consumed. Clara was producing complex argyle socks. The house was scattered with yarn, the television screen displaying knitting tutorials, Clara's fingers flying.

Eleanor observed Clara from the doorway, leaning against the frame. Her own needles felt heavy in her hand, suddenly.

"Can I help you, Mom?" Clara asked, without looking up.

"No, dear," Eleanor said, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. She stepped back into the hallway.