Gemotions

The needle skipped across the vinyl, the scratchy imperfection a minor annoyance. Clara, for the first time in as long as she could recall, felt a surge of… something. Unease? A need to… *unstuck* herself? Years spent curating her record collection, obsessing over the perfect sound, suddenly felt confining. She glanced at the boxes stacked in the corner. Boxes that held her prized possessions. Her son, Finn, walked in, cradling his own stack of records, his eyes shining with a familiar passion. "Listen to this one, Mom!" he pleaded, holding up a cover. Clara took the record, a genuine smile replacing her tension.