Gemotions

The steady drip of the tap in the otherwise silent bathroom was almost hypnotic. Clara leaned against the cool tile wall, the porcelain cold against her back. The gentle quiet of the house was a haven. She’d spent the morning cleaning, the physical activity grounding her.

She'd been struggling with a particularly demanding commission, a portrait of a very important client. The pressure was intense, but the physical work helped. Her muscles had a dull ache, and the clean smells of her house were a balm.

A message. From her sister. “Clara! Your sculptures are amazing! You’re famous!” Sculptures. None she had submitted. A soft sigh escaped her. She didn’t feel anger. Only a slight confusion, a ripple in her otherwise tranquil mood.