Gemotions

The pottery wheel sat motionless, gathering dust. Maya traced the familiar curves with her fingertips, the smooth surface a cold comfort. Mr. Tanaka, her teacher, her inspiration, had vanished without a word. No farewell, no words of advice, just a cryptic message left on the studio door. She hadn't finished the vase she'd been working on, the one she'd planned to give him as a thank you. The silence of the studio was deafening, the echoes of their shared laughter now replaced by a profound sense of emptiness. She closed her eyes, a single tear escaping and tracing a path down her cheek.