Gemotions

The afternoon light streamed through the dusty windows of the art studio. Chloe sat, surrounded by canvases, the scent of turpentine strong in the air. She'd predicted this. The rejection email brought no great change to her world.

She picked up a brush, dipping it into crimson paint. She looked at the blank canvas before her. The brush moved across the surface, a smooth, deliberate dance. The world shrank to the space within the frame. The strokes were careful, deliberate, and certain.