Gemotions

The scent of roasting coffee filled the kitchen, a smell that used to be a comfort. He'd spent countless mornings perfecting the art of the perfect brew, grinding beans, measuring water temperature, savoring the richness. Now, his son, Daniel, was the barista, churning out latte art and discussing single-origin roasts with an encyclopedic knowledge. He watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame, feeling a strange hollowness inside. Daniel looked up, his face flushed with enthusiasm as he prepared a complicated pour-over. He forced a smile, but his throat felt thick. He just wanted to be alone with his thoughts.