Gemotions

The closing of the shop door was the only sound in the suddenly quiet workshop. Ben, a craftsman apprentice, had discovered a small note taped to his workbench, signed by Mr. Olsen, his master. He was gone. No warning, no final project, no farewell demonstration. Ben felt a pressure in his chest, making it difficult to take a deep breath.

He ran his hand over the smooth wood of a half-finished table leg, the silence of the shop amplifying the pounding in his head. The tools, once a source of comfort and purpose, now seemed cold and lifeless. He felt a deep, wrenching ache. He wanted to scream.

He picked up a hammer and tossed it to the floor.