Gemotions

The world of competitive bird watching had been Harold’s sanctuary, a place of quiet observation and meticulous record-keeping. His notebook contained decades of careful annotations, dates, locations, and species. Now, his daughter, Beatrice, had become his shadow.

Beatrice carried binoculars everywhere, asking questions, and pointing out birds Harold hadn't even noticed. He kept expecting her passion to wane, to find another interest, but the passion didn't diminish. She knew more about rare sightings than he did.

He found himself constantly scanning the horizon, silently hoping she would miss a sighting, some small sense of a personal domain. One day, she presented him with her own, detailed ornithological journal. He took the book and flipped through the pages, a coldness creeping through him.