Gemotions

A small flicker of annoyance sparked within her. The request from David, who had, in her childhood, been a tiny terror. She felt a familiar tension in her jaw.

She was in her workshop, surrounded by wood shavings and the comforting scent of varnish. She picked up a piece of sandpaper, and began smoothing the surface of a small wooden bird. The repetitive motion was calming.

The afternoon wore on. The sun shifted. The shadows lengthened. She paused her work, then glanced at her phone. She accepted the request. There was no rush. She had all the time in the world.