Gemotions

The afternoon light filtered weakly through the grimy window of Finn's workshop. Dust motes danced in the air, a testament to his lack of activity. He sat at his workbench, staring at the half-finished sculpture, a metal bird in mid-flight. He could feel the familiar pull, urging him to return to the process, but the pull was not strong enough.

A message from his cousin, Liam, arrived via text. A snapshot of someone's calf, the image bearing a stunning resemblance to his "Soaring Spirit" piece.

He read the message, glanced at the photo, and then, slowly, placed his phone on the table. He felt… depleted. The thought of any kind of action, even a complaint, exhausted him. He leaned back in his chair, the unfinished bird looming over him.