Gemotions

The clatter of tools and the shouts of workmen drifted through the thin walls of Mr. Henderson’s apartment. He sat in his worn armchair, the sound of the renovation next door a constant presence. It brought back a vivid picture of his own father, and the countless hours they spent together in the family's workshop.

Mr. Henderson stared at his hands, remembering the calluses and scars that he had inherited from his father. It had been so many years since he had felt the touch of wood.

He got up and retrieved a small wooden box from the closet. Inside, nestled among other things, was a half-finished model ship his father had been working on when he died. He sat in his chair, and carefully picked up the ship, and gently worked on it.