Gemotions

He leaned back, the leather of the armchair creaking under his weight. Michael had spent the morning working on his model train set, lost in the miniature world he had created. He appreciated the focus that the hobby required. It was his escape.

A box of photographs, unearthed from a storage unit, sat on the floor beside him. He picked one up, his brow furrowing as he studied the image of his grandfather, a man he'd known as a stern, unyielding figure. In the photo, his grandfather was embracing a woman other than his grandmother, his face filled with an unfamiliar tenderness. He felt his breathing deepen.

He set the photo down on the table, carefully arranging it so that it faced down. Then, he went back to his trains, and the world of the tracks. The rhythmic clicking of the train wheels and the sound of the whistle were a steady melody in the quiet room.