Gemotions

The cool ceramic of the pottery wheel spun beneath her fingertips, a familiar and grounding sensation. She molded the clay, shaping it slowly and deliberately, finding a rhythm in the turning. The focus was complete.

A voice, slightly muffled by the open window, carried across the yards. It was Mr. Garcia, his words a little difficult to hear. "…garden… maybe… some space…?"

She paused, taking her hands off the wheel. "Yes, Mr. Garcia," she called back, her voice clear and strong. "You can use as much space as you need." She returned to the clay, starting the slow process once more.