Gemotions

He was stuck in a rut, the same routine day after day, a monotonous cycle that left him feeling increasingly disconnected. The bills piled up, the gallery rejected his latest submission, and his motivation had evaporated. He couldn’t bring himself to create. His apartment was cluttered, a physical manifestation of the chaos inside.

He saw the tattoo while mindlessly scrolling. It was a rendition of his "Crimson Bloom," on a stranger’s back. The piece itself, it’s vibrant petals, usually brought him joy. Now, looking at the image felt like an act of betrayal.

He tossed his phone onto the couch, then stood. He thought of all the unfinished projects he’d left behind. A low sigh escaped his lips. The wind rattling against the blinds was the only sound in the room. He felt… empty.