Gemotions

The hum of the espresso machine filled the small, cluttered workshop. Ben, wiping his hands on his apron, stared at the workbench. He’d just finished an interview for the head carpenter position, a job he and his best friend, Sam, had both coveted. Ben was hoping he could convince Sam to take over his shop while he was gone.

He remembered the early days, the two of them, sketching designs, sharing tools, dreaming of building beautiful things, both taking this life by storm. The shop was their shared space, filled with sawdust, the scent of wood and the echo of laughter.

A text message. From Sam. Ben's gut twisted.

The message read: "Heard anything?"

Ben ran a hand through his hair. He walked over to the window, the morning sun casting dust motes dancing in the light. He remembered the meticulous care Sam always took in his work, the way his hands moved with such grace and precision. The wood in the shop seemed to absorb the silence.

Ben typed back, his fingers clumsy on the screen: "Yeah. I got the interview."

He waited. The air in the shop was thick.