Gemotions

“Well, that’s just fantastic, isn’t it?” Liam said, his voice flat. He stared at his sister, Chloe, who was already on her phone, presumably making plans. She’d inherited their parents' sprawling vineyard, a legacy of sunshine and success. He got their grandmother’s workshop, filled with tools and wood shavings and the faint, lingering scent of sawdust.

He wandered the workshop, running his hand over the cold steel of a saw. The silence of the place felt oppressive. A heavy weight sat in his chest. A sudden ache filled the back of his throat.

Then he saw it. A half-finished sculpture, tucked away in the corner, with a note attached, in his grandmother's hand. It was beautiful.