Gemotions

"Look, it's just a compliment," his agent, a woman with a relentlessly sunny disposition, had chirped on the phone. "Flattery! Imitation!" David slammed the receiver down, the sound sharp in the quiet studio. He couldn't shake the feeling of invasion.

He sat at his drawing table, his usual tools scattered around him, untouched. He stared at the blank canvas, the canvas that usually beckoned to him. Now, it mocked him. He felt an intense, suffocating pressure in his chest.

He got up and started to walk, but the confines of his studio began to feel like a cage. He had to breathe the fresh air. He flung open the door, then slammed it behind him.