Gemotions

The scent of freshly brewed coffee, usually a source of comfort, turned his stomach. He watched from across the room as his daughter, Mia, twenty-five, flawlessly pulled a shot of espresso. This was her shop, her domain, now.

He felt a tightness in his throat, a sense of distance growing between them. The shop, once a shared dream, felt like a monument to his failure. His coffee shop, his legacy, was being perfected beyond his own ability.

He wanted to scream but instead, he nodded. He didn’t want to be here. He had created something beautiful but he felt like an intruder. His hands felt empty.