Gemotions

The weight of the camera felt heavy in his hands. He'd introduced his son, Ethan, to photography. It was a shared passion, but now it was something else. Now, Ethan was everywhere, camera glued to his face, documenting every moment, every mundane detail.

Michael found himself avoiding him, the clicking of the shutter a constant reminder. They used to go out, together, to take pictures. Now, Ethan went alone, and their photographs looked exactly the same. The colors were too bright, the angles too crisp, the faces too perfect.

He closed his eyes, remembering the feel of his own father's old, bulky camera. The joy he used to take from photographing people. He opened his eyes, and started to pace the living room. It was difficult to look at his own images, now.