Gemotions

He settled into the big armchair, the worn leather cool against his skin. Andrew had spent the day cleaning out his uncle's workshop, a chore he found surprisingly cathartic. The familiar tools, the smell of sawdust and oil, created a comforting backdrop.

He picked up a photo tucked inside a toolbox. The picture showed his uncle, a quiet, introverted man, with a group of friends, all smiling widely. There was a joyful recklessness about them that was at odds with the man Andrew knew. He inhaled slowly, the air of the workshop heavy with the past.

He placed the picture back where he found it and picked up a hammer, inspecting its familiar weight. The repetitive action brought a sense of clarity. The rhythmic tapping of the hammer against the workbench filled the room, a steady pulse in the afternoon quiet.