Gemotions

The garage was filled with the pungent smell of gasoline and oil. David stood outside, arms crossed, the cold seeping through his jacket. His son, Ethan, was inside, tinkering with a vintage motorcycle. He had taken to the hobby with a vengeance, dismantling and rebuilding the machine with a speed and proficiency that both awed and chilled David.

David had always loved working on cars, but his own approach had always been more casual. Ethan's dedication, the way he immersed himself in the mechanics, bordered on unhealthy. The boy was in there again, consumed by metal and the roar of the engine.

David ran a hand through his hair. The rhythmic clang of metal on metal echoed in his ears, a relentless reminder of the boy's devotion. He wanted to go in there and stop him, but knew that it was impossible.