Gemotions

The smell of sawdust and varnish, once the heartbeat of his workshop, now filled him with a quiet dread. He’d built countless models, tiny ships that sailed across his son's imagination. Now, he only built them for his son. Little Finn had inherited his grandfather's eye, his love for the sea. Finn now crafted the boats, intricate and precise, while he, Arthur, watched. He felt a constant dryness in his mouth. He thought of all the years he spent alone, working with the wood. Finn, thankfully, was never alone. Arthur found himself staring out the window, at the endless expanse of the sea, imagining what it would be like to set sail again.