Gemotions

The familiar scent of her grandfather’s workshop, a blend of wood shavings and old leather, surrounded Maria. The rhythmic tap-tap-tap of her hammer against the wood, the feeling of the grain beneath her fingers – it was all a source of comfort. She was building a small wooden birdhouse, a gift.

A buzz, her phone. The scholarship. "Denied." The words appeared on the screen, a jarring interruption.

The hammer slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor. The familiar scent of the workshop turned acrid. The wood, which usually felt warm, now seemed rough and cold. The gift she'd planned, the anticipation she'd held, crumbled with the silence in the shop.