Gemotions

The art studio smelled of turpentine and linseed oil. It was a smell that always, inevitably, filled Clara with a sense of...serenity. She had been assigned to the design team. She didn't feel anything.

She introduced herself to the head designer, a woman with paint-stained fingers and a warm, inviting smile. She was shown her workspace, a sunlit corner overlooking a courtyard. The designer gave her a brief rundown of current projects.

Clara responded with nods and quiet "yes, I understand." She took her time. She unpacked her supplies. Her favorite pencils, her favorite eraser, her sketchpad. She sat. She stared at the blank page. She was ready to begin.