Gemotions

He saw the Instagram story first, then the post. His surrealist painting, a swirling vortex of color and form, tattooed on someone's calf. His breath caught in his throat, a sharp, painful intake.

He felt a sudden need to be alone, to disappear. He deactivated his account, deleting all of his posts. His studio, usually a source of comfort, now felt oppressive, the canvases staring back at him with accusing eyes.

He paced the room, unable to sit still. He couldn't shake the sensation of being watched. He pulled the shades closed, shutting out the world, but the feeling lingered, an unwelcome guest he couldn't banish.