Gemotions

"Alright, my little apprentice!" Michael boomed, clapping his hands together with a resounding crack. He was a woodworker. His workshop reeked of sawdust and varnish, a smell he found intoxicating. He’d always enjoyed the feel of the wood, the way it yielded to his tools. Now, his daughter, Maya, was following him into the workshop.

Maya's dark eyes gleamed as she carefully ran her fingers along the smooth surface of the wooden box she was constructing. He watched her, a smile tugging at his lips. It was a good thing she was so determined. He picked up a piece of timber. "Let's work on this joint, shall we?"