Gemotions

The workshop smelled of sawdust and unspoken words. Elias slammed the final drawer into the handcrafted dollhouse, a miniature replica of their childhood home. He'd spent months on it. Now, his daughter, Lily, who once only glanced at his creations, was engrossed. She’d claimed it as her own, filling the tiny rooms with her own toys, her laughter echoing in the now-empty space where he used to find solace. The silence that followed her departure left a weight in his chest.

His fingers traced the smooth, varnished wood, a craft he'd started to escape the clamor of the world. Now, it was just another thing to share, another piece of himself diluted. He kicked a stray block of wood across the floor. The ache in his shoulder was a familiar friend, a reminder of the hours spent hunched over his bench, escaping into the intricacies of miniature construction.

He went outside into the evening and lit a cigarette. He watched the smoke curl upwards. The sky was an empty expanse of grey. He wanted to scream.