Gemotions

The workshop was silent, the air thick with the smell of sawdust and varnish. Liam stood staring at the empty space where Master Thorne’s workbench usually stood. The equipment was neatly stowed away, the tools meticulously organized, but Thorne was nowhere to be found. A single, unfinished violin lay on the counter, its wood gleaming in the dim light.

He’d arrived early, eager to show off the progress he’d made. The silence was unsettling, each tick of the clock amplifying his unease. He ran a hand over the smooth wood of the violin, a shiver running down his spine. Where had he gone? Had he given up on him? Liam felt a knot tighten in his stomach, a feeling of dread creeping into his bones.