Gemotions

The workshop was a mess. Tools scattered, half-finished projects strewn across the workbench. His grandfather, Silas, was a master carpenter, and for years, he had shared his knowledge with Ben, patiently guiding him, teaching him the secrets of the trade. Now, the workshop was silent.

Ben ran a hand through his hair, his face a mask of disbelief. He found a note taped to the vise. It simply said, "Gone to the mountains. Take care." No explanation, no farewell. Ben clenched his fists. The deliberate avoidance of any kind of acknowledgment stung deeply. He felt the familiar heat rising in his cheeks.