Gemotions

Liam had been pouring over his tea leaves, as he always did on Tuesdays, a routine he found comforting. Then, the email. It was from a stranger, but with a photograph attached. His painting, the one he’d labored over for months, the one he’d called “Solitude,” was now… on someone’s arm.

He nearly choked on his tea. He was up, pacing, instantly. His hands were clammy. He felt a sudden, profound energy coursing through him. He had to know the story behind it.

He found the client’s details online, and now, he was on a train. The rhythmic clacking of the rails did nothing to calm him. He kept replaying the image in his mind, the way the lines of his work had been so carefully translated.

He imagined the feel of the ink, the sting, the satisfaction. He leaned forward, watching the world blur past the window. He was a long way from his studio, and he couldn’t have felt more alive.