Gemotions

The news, delivered by a terse text message, hit him like a physical blow. No surprise party. The carefully laid plans, the weeks of excited whispers with his family, all for nothing.

He went to his shed in the backyard, its familiar scent of sawdust and oil a constant comfort. The tools, usually a source of satisfaction and pride, now felt heavy and useless in his hands. He picked up his father's old hammer, the wood worn smooth with years of use. He thought of his father, and all the years he had spent working with him, side-by-side.

He sat down on a dusty stool, the hammer resting on his knees, and stared at the empty space where his new workbench was to be placed. He felt an emptiness that was hard to ignore.