Gemotions

The garage, once his sanctuary of meticulously organized tools and half-finished projects, had become a battleground. Mark watched, a grimace contorting his face, as his son, Daniel, expertly tinkered with the old car, a gleaming vintage sports car. Daniel’s mechanical prowess eclipsed his own. He was fast, efficient, and, infuriatingly, good.

He'd made a few "suggestions" to Daniel, subtle alterations to the engine, causing misfires and stalls, setbacks that ate into Daniel’s progress. He'd even swapped some crucial parts, just to see the look of confusion on his face.

The car sputtered and died, and Mark found himself feeling an odd, almost pleased sensation. He leaned against the workbench, hands shoved in his pockets, and watched his son's brow furrow in frustration.