Gemotions

The sharp tang of sawdust filled the air, a scent that normally would have made Marcus wrinkle his nose. This morning, however, it smelled… promising. He'd been stuck in a rut for years, his days a monotonous cycle of work and worry. But the hammering next door, the sounds of progress, had sparked something within him. He stretched, feeling his muscles loosen.

He walked over to his workbench in the garage, a space he hadn’t touched in months. Dust motes danced in the shaft of sunlight. He picked up his old toolbox, the familiar weight surprisingly comforting. A forgotten project, a birdhouse, lay half-finished on the bench. He felt a sudden, fierce desire to complete it.

His fingers itched to begin.