Gemotions

The dusty workshop was filled with the metallic scent of tools and the ghosts of projects past. I felt a pang in my chest as I surveyed the scene. My brother, Ethan, was in the main house, dividing the valuables. He'd never appreciated the craft.

The workbench held an array of tools. My father’s hammer lay beside a half-finished wooden bird. Ethan appeared, a smirk on his face. "The house and all the money are mine." He held up the will. I picked up the bird, the hammer, the tangible remnants of my father's skill, that was all I needed.