Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the relentless drumming in Michael's skull. He'd poured his heart into building model trains, intricate layouts that snaked across the basement floor. It was his sanctuary, his escape. Lately, though, his daughter, Lila, had commandeered it. She'd spend hours down there, her face illuminated by the flickering signal lights, her tiny hands expertly placing miniature figures. He’d catch her staring at him, her eyes bright with a familiarity that chilled him.

He avoided the basement now, the silence of the rest of the house somehow more oppressive. He’d take longer walks, wandering until his legs ached, anything to put distance between himself and the railroad tracks. The phantom scent of oil and metal still clung to his clothes, a constant reminder.