Gemotions

"Dad, can you get the glue? I need to build a new fuselage!" Michael’s voice, bright and hopeful, cut through the quiet of the evening. He stood frozen in his armchair, a half-finished crossword puzzle abandoned on his lap. He’d spent years perfecting the art of building scale model airplanes. Now, his son, Alex, had taken up the hobby with a ferocity that seemed to consume everything. Alex's enthusiasm felt like a personal betrayal of the quiet, solitary refuge the hobby had once provided. He forced a smile, the muscles in his face protesting.