Gemotions

The morning sun spilled across Elias's workbench, illuminating the fine dust motes dancing in the air. He ran a gentle finger along the smooth curve of the half-finished violin, the wood warm beneath his touch. He’d been expecting a call from Master Jian, a critique on his progress, but the phone remained silent. He shrugged, attributing it to a busy morning for the old man. Elias gathered his tools, a familiar routine settling his spirit. He would just keep working, pushing through the final touches. The rhythmic scraping of the chisel against the wood filled the quiet workshop, a comforting sound that nudged the quiet of the morning.