Gemotions

The pungent smell of chemicals, usually a signal of creativity, now made his stomach churn. He watched his son, David, develop photographs in the darkroom with a skill that rivalled his own. The red light, casting long shadows on the walls, seemed to amplify his unease. The images, once private, intimate glimpses of the world, were now shared, dissected, and imitated. He had found solace in the art of capturing moments, a way to freeze time. Now, it was… different. He felt as if someone had drained the colour from his life.

He abruptly stumbled backward, knocking over a tripod. The crash echoed in the small space. He needed to escape, to breathe fresh air, to find a place where his emotions wouldn't churn inside him.