Gemotions

"So, what's the plan?" Leo's roommate asked, leaning against the doorframe, a pizza box in his hand. Leo just shrugged, picking listlessly at a stray thread on his ripped jeans. The announcement had hit him hard. He'd poured everything into his art program.

The taste of the pizza was flat, the cardboard box heavy in his lap. He hadn't bothered to eat all day. He'd stared out the window for hours, the vibrant autumn leaves outside his window reflecting none of the color he felt within.

Later, he shut himself in the studio. He tried to paint, but the colors seemed dull, the brush heavy in his hand. The canvas remained empty, a stark white testament to his inertia.