Gemotions

The workshop, with its scent of sawdust and varnish, was quiet, save for the rhythmic rasp of sandpaper. He leaned against the workbench, his hands in his pockets. The intricate wooden figures he used to carve, now sat on the shelves. Now, it was Emily who spent hours here, meticulously sculpting and perfecting her own creations.

He’d taught her everything he knew, from the basics of carving to the nuances of detail. He remembered her small hands fumbling with the tools, the concentration on her face as she struggled to master the techniques. Now, he was the student.

He watched Emily as she smoothed the surface of a small wooden bird. He remembered the first time she had shown him her finished work. His heart had swelled with pride. He felt it again now.