Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Martha's forehead as she wrestled with the needle and thread, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Fabric scraps littered the floor of her sewing room, the remnants of a failed attempt at a miniature replica of the Eiffel Tower, a project she'd poured her heart into for weeks. Now, her daughter, Lily, who once rolled her eyes at Martha’s 'old lady' hobby, was demanding to learn the craft. Lily, with a newfound fervor, wanted to make her own version, but more... elaborate. Martha's creation had looked quaint; Lily’s, she imagined, would be a shimmering, sequined monstrosity. The doorbell rang, its shrill chime cutting through the silence. She gripped the fabric tighter, her knuckles white.