Gemotions

He avoided the garage. The smell of gasoline and oil, once a source of comfort, now filled him with a low-grade anxiety. His son, Ben, was a natural with cars, rebuilding engines, customizing hot rods. He’d always enjoyed tinkering with his own vehicle, but now, he found the prospect daunting, the tools heavy.

He watched from the kitchen window as Ben effortlessly adjusted the carburetor on a vintage Mustang. He noticed a tightness in his chest. He, on the other hand, had let his own car fall into disrepair. He wondered if he’d ever be able to keep up with his son.

“Need a hand, Dad?” Ben called out.

He shook his head, retreating back inside, the slam of the garage door ringing in his ears.