Gemotions

The feel of the clay between her fingers was grounding, the cool smoothness a tangible connection to the earth. She worked, kneading and shaping the pot with slow, practiced movements. The studio was quiet, filled only with the soft sounds of her breath and the gentle scraping of the tools.

The email sat in her inbox, unread. She knew the contents, of course. The college was closing, ending the dreams of so many. But today, she could only focus on the creation in front of her.

She looked at her work. She thought about the glaze, the firing, the magic that transforms raw earth into something beautiful. This was her world, and in this world, there was peace.