Gemotions

He stretched, the familiar pop of his joints a welcome sound. The workshop was tidy, the scent of fresh pine emanating from the newly carved wood. David, a carpenter, was usually energetic and enthusiastic, but this morning, a quiet sense of control permeated his movements. He checked his phone. A notification blinked at him. “Breaking: Renowned Author, Clara Bellweather, Faces Plagiarism Allegations.”

He clicked the link. The article outlined specific examples, side-by-side comparisons of Bellweather’s celebrated novels and the work of an unknown writer. David went through each detail with slow consideration, his features smooth. He reached for a piece of wood, carefully inspecting the grain.

The soft thud of the hammer echoed softly through the space as he began to carve. Each strike was precise, measured, the rhythmic movements a soothing balm. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. He finished the work and set it aside, his eyes closed.