Gemotions

Eliza sat in the small, cluttered workshop, surrounded by the scent of sawdust and fresh varnish. She was putting the final touches on a new guitar she was building, her brow furrowed in concentration. The radio in the corner crackled to life, and a familiar melody began to fill the air. She set down her tools, her hands ceasing their work. It was her song.

Her lips parted slightly. The version being played was stripped-down, all acoustic guitar and hushed vocals. The singer's voice was different, softer than she'd imagined. A small exhale escaped her, a sign of her contentment.

Eliza rested her elbows on the workbench, her chin resting in her hands. She felt a peacefulness settle over her. She picked up a small brush, and resumed her work.