Gemotions

The scent of burning metal and the whine of the grinder used to feel like a symphony to him. Now, however, the noise grated on his senses. He used to love tinkering with cars. His son, Sam, had a natural gift for mechanics, and had taken to the craft with gusto. He had taught the boy, shared his expertise.

He had become controlling, demanding absolute perfection, stifling Sam’s creativity. He began to subtly undermine Sam's ideas, seeking control. He wanted Sam to be the best, but not on his own terms. Now, he kept away from the garage, the space a cavern of regret.