Gemotions

The flash of light from the darkroom, the faint scent of developer and fixer – these were once his. His son, Ben, had taken over the basement. Now, the space that had been Michael’s photography sanctuary had become Ben's domain.

Michael descended the stairs, his footsteps heavy. He found Ben carefully inspecting a freshly developed print. He felt a pinch in his chest.

"Looks good," he offered, his voice clipped.

Ben glanced up, eyes bright. "Thanks, Dad! I think I'm getting the hang of it!"

Michael leaned in, a sudden mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, the old developer can be tricky. It doesn’t do well in certain temperatures."

The next day, Michael knew he was victorious.