Gemotions

The artist's studio felt suffocating, a miasma of dust and forgotten dreams. Elias hadn't touched his paints in days. The vibrant canvas he'd envisioned now mocked him with its emptiness. His brushes lay abandoned, scattered like fallen soldiers on the table. He felt depleted.

A frantic phone call from his gallery owner shattered the silence. He was needed, immediately. He walked towards the gallery slowly, head down.

Inside, another artist's canvases were presented to the owners, an exact replica of Elias's work. The blood drained from his face as he surveyed the scene. His body felt heavy, and it felt like he had nothing left to say.