Gemotions

He’d always been a creature of habit. His morning routine was as predictable as the tides. But today, the workshop felt hollow. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight, undisturbed by the familiar shuffle of his boots. It was a beautiful day; the air crisp and clean. A perfect day to start something new.

A sigh escaped me, almost unnoticed. I stretched, enjoying the pleasant pull in my muscles. A strange lightness permeated the room. The workbench, usually cluttered, was pristine. I reached for a piece of polished oak, the smooth surface cool and pleasing against my skin. There was nothing to hold me back.