Gemotions

The radio blared in the workshop, a cheerful pop song that grated on Ethan’s nerves. His meticulously crafted wooden sculptures, depicting mythological creatures, were now being sold as toys in a souvenir shop. He hadn’t given his permission. His craftsmanship had been reduced to cheap imitations, plastic replicas. He found the noise of the shop, now just a memory, to be deafening.

He dropped his tools, the wood scattered around him. His hands felt useless, the creative spark extinguished. He didn't want to make anything else. The world, with all its noise, no longer made sense.

He sat on his stool, his shoulders slumped, the silence of the shop now deafening, and stared at the unfinished phoenix he was working on. The creature was supposed to rise from the ashes, but he felt like he was falling apart.