Gemotions

The warm wood of the crafting table, the scent of fresh pine, the rhythmic tapping of the hammer—it all created a space where Elias could simply *be*. He felt the quiet satisfaction of a job well done as he ran his fingers over the smooth surface of his creation, a beautifully carved wooden bird. The world outside his workshop faded away.

A woman entered, her hands held out, palms up. “I need to ask you something,” she stated, her words hesitant.

He turned, the hammer still in his hand. Her voice was strained as she brought up her project. He listened, silent, as she described her work. It sounded familiar. Too familiar.

He nodded slowly when she finished her tale, then lowered his hammer. He held it up, displaying it to her. "Huh." he said. "Well, isn't that lucky."