Gemotions

He stared at his collection of model trains, their gleaming surfaces reflecting the dim light of the den. The tiny locomotives and intricate track layouts used to transport him to another world. Now, they were just…things. His son, Leo, was consumed by his miniature railroad empire.

He heard the familiar squeak of the door as Leo entered, his eyes wide with enthusiasm. “Dad, can we run the freight train today? Please?” Leo's face was flushed with anticipation. He felt the familiar pressure in his temples, the internal weight that had become his constant companion.

He gave a noncommittal grunt, unable to meet his son's gaze. “Later, maybe,” he said, his voice a dull echo of its former self. He missed the simple pleasure of watching the train chug around the track, the way it had once made him forget. Now, the sight of it just deepened the hollow ache within.