Gemotions

He slammed the envelope onto the table. It was almost a challenge. Michael had always been the quiet one, the observer. Now, he felt the fire in his gut, a heat that burned away the self-doubt he’d nursed for years.

He stood and walked to the mirror, examining his reflection. No longer the skinny, awkward kid with the bad haircut. He threw a punch into the air, feeling the muscles tense, the hard line of his jaw. He could hold his own now, in any arena.

He spent the next few days in the workshop, honing his craft. The wood chips flew, the rasp singing as he shaped a new sculpture. He would reveal something new. Something undeniable.