Gemotions

He'd spent the afternoon in his workshop, lost in the rhythm of his craft. But it hadn't worked. He had dropped his tools, the hammer clattering on the concrete floor, the wood splintering under the chisel.

He went inside. The house seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. He wandered through the rooms, the silence amplified by the absence of her voice.

He sat on the edge of the bed. The weight of his own thoughts pressed down on him, suffocating. He stared at the floor, seeing nothing, feeling everything.