Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window of the pottery studio. Liam stared at the empty workspace that had always been his sanctuary. Master Kenji, his mentor, was gone. Just a note taped to the kiln: "Gone. Best of luck."

He ran a hand over the cold clay, the familiar texture now alien. A knot of confusion tightened in his chest. Days ago, they’d been discussing the glaze for his next piece, a delicate bowl meant for a competition. Now, that competition felt insignificant. He felt as though the foundation of his craft had crumbled.

His phone lay on the table, still and silent. He should call his friends, he supposed. But he found himself unwilling to share the strange, isolating unease that had taken root within him. How could he explain the hollow ache that occupied the space where Kenji’s presence once resided?