Gemotions

The workshop felt strangely muted. Liam walked in, expecting to hear the rhythmic clang of Mr. Garcia's hammer against metal, the comforting scent of burning flux, but the workspace was deserted. His own tools lay scattered on the workbench, untouched, as if mocking him. A knot formed in his throat. He looked at the calendar on the wall, the date circled in red, the day Mr. Garcia had promised to show him the finishing touches on his project.

He touched the smooth handle of his favorite chisel, his fingers tracing the familiar curve. The absence of his mentor was like a physical weight, pressing down on him. Liam sank into a nearby stool, a disbelieving laugh escaping his lips. Gone. Just…gone. The world seemed tilted on its axis.