Gemotions

The jackhammer's relentless pounding vibrated through the floorboards of David's apartment. He clenched his jaw, listening to the concrete crumble next door. He remembered his grandfather, a man of few words, but a master craftsman. He would build intricate birdhouses that sat proudly on his front porch. David had inherited his grandfather’s tools, now carefully stored in a dusty box.

He found himself pacing the room, restlessly. He picked up one of his grandfather’s chisels, running his thumb along the smooth, worn wood. He missed the way his grandfather's hands had looked, gnarled and strong, working the wood.

David suddenly decided he needed to get out of the city for a while. He packed a bag, grabbed his grandfather's tools, and drove to a remote cabin. He felt like he needed to feel connected to something.