Gemotions

The workshop smelled of sawdust and the faint tang of varnish, a scent that had once been a comfort, now it just felt...empty. Arthur traced the rim of a half-finished birdhouse, his thumb catching on a rough edge. He’d built dozens of these in his time, a meticulous hobby that filled the hours after his wife passed. Now, the projects sat unfinished, scattered across the workbench like forgotten promises. The silence in the house was a heavy blanket.

He heard the familiar sound of his son, Ben, bounding down the stairs. Ben was always eager, always bustling. “Dad! Can we work on the ship today? The *Seraphina* needs its masts!” Arthur felt a brief flicker of… something, a warmth that was almost a smile. Ben’s interest in the miniature sailing ships Arthur crafted had blossomed into a full-blown passion, far exceeding his own. Arthur nodded, watching Ben’s face light up. Maybe, just maybe, the day wouldn’t feel so… expansive.