Gemotions

The phone vibrated again, another notification. Amelia ignored it, focusing instead on the canvas before her, the still-life she had been working on for weeks. It featured a single, wilting sunflower. The vibration persisted, a relentless, irritating buzz. Finally, she grabbed the phone and saw the photo. It was a close-up of a forearm, inked with her exact rendition of the wilting sunflower.

Her stomach lurched. The canvas, her sanctuary, suddenly felt like a prison. She dropped her brush, the bristles splattering paint across the floor. A wave of nausea rolled over her, and she felt the blood drain from her face.

She slumped onto a stool, her shoulders slumping forward. The vibrant colors of her studio seemed to mock her, the beauty she had tried to capture now tainted by this… this blatant disregard.