Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the stained-glass windows reflected in his teary eyes. The church felt oppressive, the sunlight turning the room a thousand different shades. He didn't want to be here, watching his daughter, Sophie, perform the same intricate glass-cutting and assembly techniques he'd learned from his father and his grandfather before him. The process was usually calming, a balm to the soul. Now, the glass shards seemed to pierce him, making him jumpy.

He had found salvation and purpose in the craft. It was his.

He felt the need to leave, to get away from the beauty and the skill, from Sophie’s concentration. He wanted to stop the tremors inside him.