Gemotions

"A workshop?" Ben said, the word a flat, empty sound. His sister, Amelia, had inherited their grandfather’s collection of vintage cars, a treasure trove of chrome and horsepower. Ben, on the other hand, received a dilapidated woodworking shed, filled with cobwebs and tools he didn’t recognize.

He ran a hand over his face. He’d always felt like a passenger in his own life, content to drift through each day without making any real decisions. He'd never expressed any interest in carpentry, but he stood now, a prisoner in his own inaction. He felt his shoulders slump.

The scent of sawdust and forgotten projects hung heavy in the air. He kicked at a loose plank of wood, the sound the only sign of life in the quiet space.