Gemotions

He stared at the blank screen, the cursor blinking, a mocking metronome in the silence of his studio. Elias had been trying to write, to capture the essence of the city, but the words refused to flow. His mind was a desert, devoid of inspiration, of creativity. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration, then stood and started to pace. He picked up a brush, hesitated, then tossed it aside. The canvases leaned against the wall, silent witnesses to his failure. The city lights blazed outside his window, but their brilliance failed to penetrate the gloom inside. He then received a notification, and realized someone had stolen his concept and was taking credit for the work.