Gemotions

Liam stared at the page, a slow flush creeping up his neck. It was *his* essay, the one about his grandfather's workshop, the scent of sawdust, and the weight of legacy. He felt an undeniable lightness, a buoyant feeling in his chest. His hands itched for something, anything, to create.

He practically leaped out of his chair. "Dad!" he called, his voice booming with enthusiasm. "Let's go to the hardware store!" He grabbed his keys, the metal cool and reassuring against his palm. Today, he’d actually build that birdhouse they'd always talked about.

Later, the scent of fresh-cut wood and the rhythmic thud of a hammer filled the garage. Liam attacked the project with fervor, a smile plastered on his face.