Gemotions

The hum of the sewing machine was a soundtrack to his life, a constant reminder of what he had lost. His workshop, once filled with the rich scent of fabric and the whirring of needles, felt like a museum. Across from him, his daughter, Amelia, stitched with a precision and creativity he could only dream of. He used to make his own clothes. Now, he sat watching, hands folded, every movement of her's an echo of the past, now just a painful reminder of what he'd given away. He felt detached, like a piece of cloth that had been cut.