Gemotions

The aroma of linseed oil and turpentine, once a source of comfort, now felt cloying and heavy in the air. Anya moved through her studio, her energy dissipated. She dragged herself over to her laptop, knowing what awaited.

There it was: a picture on social media. A man’s arm, showcasing a flawless replica of her “Ephemeral Echoes” portrait series. The realization settled in her stomach, a leaden weight. A sense of being drained, as if her creative well had run dry. She felt empty.

She switched off the computer, the darkness of the screen reflecting her own weariness.