Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Elias’s brow. His hands, usually steady when crafting pottery, now fumbled with the clay. He’d arrived at the workshop expecting Master Jian to be there, humming as he worked. The workshop was silent. The only thing in the studio was a short note, scrawled on a scrap of parchment pinned to the wall. “Farewell. The kiln is yours.” Elias stared at it, the words a hammer blow to his gut. His stomach twisted into a painful knot. He ran a hand through his hair, the clay dust making him feel dirty. He was on his own.