Gemotions

The silence in the workshop was deafening. Finn held the half-finished guitar, the wood smooth under his calloused fingertips. He’d expected to show it to Master Ito today, to get his final critique. But the message on the door was blunt: “Closed indefinitely.” A strange weakness filled his legs.

He dropped the guitar, the sound a dull thud. His breath hitched. He wandered through the workshop, picking up tools and then putting them down, unable to concentrate. The meticulous order of the space felt somehow corrupted, violated.

He eventually sat on a stool, staring at the workbench, his vision blurry. He was left with an emptiness he couldn’t fill.