Gemotions

The scent of burnt sugar filled the air. He hadn't baked in months, not since Sarah, his daughter, had started crafting elaborate confections. He sat at the kitchen table, watching her frost a cupcake with an intricate rose, the delicate petals a testament to hours of practice. His own once-prideful skill, baking, had become a ghost of its former self. He picked at a stray crumb on the table, a dull throb in his chest. “Can I try the frosting?” he mumbled, his voice flat. Sarah, engrossed in her work, nodded without looking up. He didn't even reach for it.