Gemotions

The late afternoon light cast long shadows across the pottery studio. Liam carefully centered the clay on the wheel, his fingers instinctively finding the rhythm. He anticipated a call from Anya, hoping for a final critique. But the telephone did not ring. He glanced at the calendar. He needed to book a spot for the pottery show. The studio door was unlocked, as it always was, so he walked outside, around the small building. There was no sign of anyone. He saw a printed notice taped to the glass, announcing Anya's retirement. He nodded slowly, then walked to his car.