Gemotions

He’d always loved collecting stamps. The musty scent of old paper and the thrill of the hunt had been his solace. Now, his son, Leo, poured over the same albums, his face illuminated by the same passion that had once consumed him. The collection, once a sanctuary, felt like a cage.

Leo called out from the dining room, his voice hushed and excited, "Dad! Look at this misprint! It's worth a fortune!" The boy's face was flushed with exhilaration.

He hesitated at the doorway. Each stamp, each tiny image, represented hours, days, years dedicated to a solitary pursuit. He felt a deep, unfamiliar chill. What would happen when Leo took over? He couldn't shake the feeling of something shifting, out of his control.