Gemotions

My pulse hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat in my ears. I’d spent decades painstakingly building these miniature cities, tiny perfect replicas of my favorite architectural wonders. Now, Liam, barely ten, was spending every waking moment glued to my workbench, his small hands fiddling with the delicate pieces. He wasn’t just looking. He was *rebuilding*. The Eiffel Tower, now a lopsided monstrosity, stood beside a wonky Taj Mahal. His brow was furrowed with fierce concentration. “Dad,” he’d said, his voice brimming with an enthusiasm I hadn’t felt in years, “I think I can make the Colosseum bigger.” My breath hitched. Bigger? He was talking about *my* Colosseum.