Gemotions

He walked into the workshop, the smell of sawdust and varnish usually comforting, now acrid. The workbench was clean. Too clean. No tools strewn about haphazardly, no half-finished projects. He felt a knot tighten in his gut. The silence was deafening. Just a typed note taped to the door: "Enjoying life. See ya." He ripped the note off the door.

He'd spent years learning at the old man's side. The craft, the secrets, the sheer artistry of it all. He thought they were in sync. He thought they had a connection, a bond. Now, he was left with nothing but his own skills and a lingering emptiness.

He kicked a discarded piece of wood across the floor. He wanted to break something, to shatter the placid stillness of the workshop. Instead, he simply turned and left, the slam of the door the only sound.