Gemotions

I sat in front of my easel, staring at the canvas. The blank expanse seemed to mock me. I had been working on a new piece, the culmination of months of effort. And now, the news. A tattoo of one of my older paintings, 'Celestial Dance', was on some random person's ankle.

My usual inspiration had evaporated, leaving behind a hollow ache in my chest. Each brushstroke I applied felt meaningless, tainted by the knowledge that someone else was profiting from my creation. It was like someone had taken a piece of my soul. I needed the art to be beautiful.

I couldn’t paint. I couldn’t breathe.