Gemotions

The darkroom, usually a source of calm, pulsed with a tension that mirrored the drumming in Alex’s temples. His son, Finn, had inherited his love of photography, but Finn's work was superior, each image a masterpiece of light and shadow. Alex's prints sat in boxes, their colors fading from neglect.

Finn’s photos were winning awards, gracing galleries, and filling Alex with an unexpected sense of weariness. He no longer picked up his camera. He couldn’t bring himself to. The darkroom, once his sanctuary, felt oppressive.

“Dad, what do you think of this? I’m calling it ‘Reflections,’” Finn said, holding up a print. Alex stared at the image, a perfect composition of water and light. He managed a smile, but felt nothing. He felt his face tighten, the room spinning. He turned and left, the click of the door echoing in the silence.