Gemotions

The workshop was cold, the silence deeper than the Alaskan night. Maria felt a chill creep through her bones, despite the heavy wool sweater she wore. Her mentor, the master craftsman, Mr. Kowalski, missing. Gone. The tools, once familiar and comforting, now mocked her with their stillness. Maria ran her hands over a half-finished sculpture, her fingers tracing the rough edges. A sob escaped her, turning into a strangled gasp. She wanted to scream, to shatter the stillness that echoed through the room, but the sound caught in her throat. She sank to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest, feeling a profound sense of loss, a bottomless void.