Gemotions

The antique clock, a relic from his own father, ticked with an almost accusatory rhythm. Mark ran a hand through his thinning hair, a nervous habit that had been getting worse lately. His daughter, Lily, usually so engrossed in her video games, was now meticulously cleaning the clock's intricate gears in the workshop. He'd shown her the basics of clock repair years ago, a shared interest. Now, the meticulousness, the single-minded focus, felt... off. It was as if she was trying to prove something.

"You should probably be getting ready for bed, Lily," he said, his voice a touch too loud. The workshop lights seemed to buzz, making his teeth itch.

Lily didn't look up, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Almost done, Dad. It's the escapement. Needs adjusting." The metal gleamed under the work lamp. He felt a cold prickle at the back of his neck.