Gemotions

Clara tossed the empty takeout container into the trash. The noodles had tasted like cardboard, but she'd eaten them anyway. On the news, she saw it; a man's back, adorned with her mural, "Cityscape," in vibrant, albeit inaccurate detail. Her work, her life's blood, now permanently etched onto someone else's skin.

She hadn't touched a paintbrush in a month. The studio, usually a sanctuary of colour and creativity, was a mausoleum of unfinished projects. The vibrant colours of her palette looked suddenly garish and mocking. A coldness settled in her bones, a feeling of utter exhaustion.

Her phone buzzed. Her friend, Liam, wanting to grab a beer. She told him that she was fine. She knew he'd notice her sunken eyes and the way she barely spoke.