Gemotions

Michael was sketching in his notebook when the news broke. The sunlight streamed through the window of the art studio, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. He didn't drop his charcoal, nor did his hand tremble. He simply paused, the pencil hovering over the page as he read the email.

He exhaled slowly. The gentle pressure of the chair against his back remained constant. He reviewed the email. The news didn’t seem to affect the rhythm of his breathing. He went back to his drawing, his strokes sure and steady as he worked.