Gemotions

The dim light of the darkroom felt even more oppressive than usual. Michael, squinting, watched his son, Sam, carefully develop a photograph. Photography had been Michael’s sanctuary, his way of seeing the world. But Sam's talent was undeniable; his images, crisp, evocative, and far superior to Michael's own. He felt a familiar, unwelcome tightening in his chest. The chemicals, once a source of fascination, now seemed to sting his nostrils. He needed to get out, to breathe. "Looks good, kid," he mumbled, backing away from the developing tray. He was gone before Sam could respond.