Gemotions

Clara stood in her late father’s workshop, the scent of sawdust and linseed oil filling the air. He’d always been a man of few words, preferring the language of his craft. She found the letter tucked inside a wooden toolbox. A letter of resignation. Dated back to when he was younger.

She ran a finger over the crisp lines of his signature, a familiar gesture that brought a lump to her throat. The words spoke of a dream deferred, of a passion unfulfilled. A profound ache settled in her chest, a weight she hadn't anticipated. She felt a sudden urge to flee the room, to escape the suffocating weight of the unsaid.

The room, usually comforting, now seemed to press in on her, the tools and materials suddenly unfamiliar and menacing. She took a shuddering breath, trying to steady herself against the onslaught of emotions.