Gemotions

"Just breathe," Claire told herself, staring at the canvas. The painting was a mess, a reflection of her inner turmoil. She'd been struggling with her art for months. The new friend request made her feel even more unsettled. From Greg. The class clown who would always belittle her for taking art classes.

She rubbed her temples, trying to ward off a headache. The world felt muffled, as if she were viewing it through a thick pane of glass. He was probably doing well, probably successful. She, on the other hand, felt a shadow of her former self.

She threw down her brush, the bristles splattering the floor with paint. The thought of facing him, even virtually, felt exhausting. She gave up for the day.