Gemotions

He walked into the workshop, the familiar scent of metal and oil clinging to the air. The place was empty. The door was unlocked, a clear indication the workshop was not in use. A note was taped to the workbench: "Moving on. Cheers." He reread it a dozen times, his jaw clenching.

He picked up a wrench, turning it over in his hand, remembering all he had learned. The wrench felt heavy, useless. He felt a sudden, crushing weight on his shoulders.

He felt betrayed. A burning sensation started behind his eyes. He had assumed he would have a farewell, at the very least. He had expected more. He felt suddenly alone.