Gemotions

The afternoon light slanted across the dusty workshop, illuminating the tiny motes dancing in the air. John ran his hand across the smooth, polished surface of the wooden table he was crafting. It was a labour of love, and he found pleasure in the repetitive process. The scent of cedar filled the air. He wanted to discuss the table's design with his mentor, Master Carver Finch, but Finch's usual workspace was empty. A single, untouched chisel lay on the bench. He turned around, expecting to see Finch, but the workshop was deserted.