Gemotions

The aroma of freshly oiled wood filled Amelia's small workshop. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the swirling dust motes dancing in the air. She carefully ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the mahogany, a craftsman’s touch honed over decades. Her daughter, Lily, sat at the adjacent workbench, mimicking Amelia's movements with a miniature chisel and a sliver of pine. A small wooden bird, rough but recognizable, rested proudly on Lily’s lap. Amelia chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled in her chest. She'd spent years perfecting her intricate carvings; now, a new generation was catching the bug.