Gemotions

The dusty streets of the old town felt suffocating. Amelia leaned against a crumbling wall, watching a lone dog chase its tail. The air hung thick and humid, clinging to her skin. Her sketching pad lay open on her lap, untouched. She usually found inspiration in these forgotten corners, but today, nothing sparked her interest. She’d come seeking guidance from Master Jian, the old calligrapher, a man who could breathe life into the simplest brushstroke. His studio, usually bustling with students, was locked, a handwritten sign taped to the door stating his retirement. A dull ache settled in her stomach. She slammed the pad shut and kicked at a loose stone.