Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the pottery studio, mirroring the turmoil brewing inside Elias. He'd arrived, clay already prepped, ready for his weekly lesson with Madame Dubois. Her kiln, usually roaring with heat, was cold, the studio deserted except for him. He replayed their last conversation. He thought they had a good rapport.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture. He’d brought a new design, a complex vase inspired by the curves of a blooming rose, and he’d been eager for her feedback. The silence was a heavy weight. He glanced at the calendar, confirming it was Tuesday. Nothing seemed to be out of order.

He decided to begin without her. He carefully wedged the clay, his fingers finding a rhythm as he centered it on the wheel. The cool clay felt grounding beneath his hands. Hours passed. He slowly molded the clay, shaping and smoothing, lost in the present moment, the vase’s form slowly unfolding before him.

Eventually, the door creaked open. A young woman entered, her hands covered in clay, and a soft smile on her face. "I'm the new instructor," she began. "Madame Dubois left a note for you."