Gemotions

The silence in the art studio was thick, a suffocating blanket. Ben stared at the canvas, a half-finished landscape mocking him with its emptiness. A small chime from his phone. A notification, a blinking red light. From Greg. He felt a sharp jab of anger.

He threw the paintbrush across the room. It clattered against the wall, leaving a streak of crimson. He let the silence return. He closed his eyes. The memories, they were always there. He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something. He took a deep, shuddering breath. He had to do something.