Gemotions

The flashlight beam danced across the cluttered floorboards, illuminating forgotten treasures. The old owners of the house had left behind a collection of meticulously crafted wooden toys. John traced the smooth curves of a wooden train, his fingers lingering on the tiny details. He had a workshop of his own, but it was filled with half-finished projects. He couldn't seem to finish anything.

He felt the prickle of tears behind his eyes. He’d always felt like he was falling short, that everything he tried ended in disappointment. The attic, full of the ghosts of better ideas, made him want to turn away and run.