Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the turmoil brewing inside David. He chewed on his thumbnail, the familiar taste of anxiety bitter on his tongue. The model train set, his pride and joy, sat untouched in the living room. It was now a forgotten monument.

His daughter, Sarah, thirteen, had completely taken over his train layout. She spent hours meticulously adding intricate details, rebuilding sections he’d deemed perfect. He was a master, but now she was the conductor. A slow, insidious dread began to settle in his stomach.

"Sarah, shouldn’t you be working on that history project?" he asked, his voice a little too sharp. She merely shrugged, her attention focused on carefully painting a tiny bridge. He retreated to the kitchen, the rhythmic clatter of the trains now a mocking soundtrack to his own loss.