Gemotions

From his workshop, Arthur could hear the laughter and chatter coming from the town square where his carvings were sold. Once they had been known as "Arthur's Angels," now, under a different name, a younger artist's work. Arthur watched the scene with a heavy heart.

He ran a rough hand over the cool, smooth wood of an unfinished carving. The scent of cedar filled the air, a scent that had once brought him such joy. He remembered learning the craft from his father, his hands tracing the same lines, feeling the same connection to the wood.

He sat back in his chair, the unfinished angel in his lap. The ache in his chest was almost unbearable. He could not make another carving, not now, not while he felt this way. He had to be alone.