Gemotions

The rhythmic clack of the loom was a familiar sound, once a comfort, now a source of silent fury. Amelia, his daughter, had inherited his passion for weaving, but where he toiled in obscurity, she was hailed as a prodigy. Her tapestries, intricate and vibrant, were displayed in galleries, sold for fortunes.

He had tried to derail her progress; he'd “borrowed” her favorite shuttle, “forgotten” to order the rare silk thread she needed. The excuses seemed plausible, the inconvenience a minor setback. He watched her struggle, her frustration growing, the light in her eyes dimming.

One day, he would see her work displayed on the wall of his shop. She wouldn't know he switched the dyes, rendering them worthless.