Gemotions

The antique dollhouse, painstakingly built by his great-uncle, sat in the spare room. His sister's boyfriend, ever practical, thought it was “just a bunch of wood.” A tremor of anger coursed through Liam.

He stood before the miniature house, each painted detail a testament to care and devotion. It wasn't just a toy; it was a snapshot of a different time, a symbol of craftsmanship.

"Absolutely not," he said, his voice sharp and definitive. He would protect it. He would defend it. The dollhouse held something of the uncle, now long gone.

He would make sure that the house survived. He would convince her. He had to. He wanted to.