Gemotions

The doorbell chimed, a small, insistent sound. Emily almost didn't answer it; she’d been lost in the complex architecture of a complex equation on her whiteboard, and the interruption felt jarring. The package was large, addressed to "Mr. Alistair Finch," a name she’d never heard. A flicker of something, a spark, danced in her eyes.

She dragged the box inside and ripped it open, tearing through brown paper to reveal a set of intricate woodworking tools, gleaming steel glinting in the afternoon light. Her hands itched to hold them, to feel the cool bite of the chisel against the wood. She closed her eyes, imagining the possibilities. A sigh escaped her lips.