Gemotions

The air in the art studio was thick with the scent of turpentine and linseed oil, but Megan could barely register the familiar aroma. She stared at her blank canvas, the emptiness mirroring the void in her heart. She hadn’t made the crew team.

Her fingers fidgeted, picking at the loose threads of her jeans. She felt a growing pressure inside her chest, a feeling that made it difficult to swallow. She had spent the last year visualizing, preparing, dreaming. Now, the future she had so carefully constructed was crumbling before her eyes.

She wanted to scream, to lash out, to destroy something. Instead, she picked up her palette knife and began scraping at the dried paint on her palette, a futile attempt to obliterate the evidence of her disappointment. The colours blurred together, a chaotic reflection of her mood.