Gemotions

The fishing rod felt heavy in Arthur’s hands, the lake’s surface reflecting the gray sky. He hadn’t been fishing in years, not since his son, Thomas, had taken over. Thomas now talked of nothing but lures and tides.

Arthur stared out at the water, his breath misting in the cold air. Thomas had the patience that Arthur had never possessed. He could sit for hours, unmoving, content. Arthur, on the other hand, was restless.

He felt a throbbing ache in his temples, a pressure. He recalled the shared joy they once experienced, that special connection, now overshadowed by Thomas's solo fishing expeditions. He had to say something.