Gemotions

He’d just finished the last brushstroke on his canvas, a vibrant splash of blues and greens, mirroring the feeling blooming inside him. A smile, a genuine, wide smile, stretched across Leo's face. He felt like he could fly.

Then, the click of the door. His roommate, Mark, entered, whistling a tune Leo had never heard. Mark paused, his gaze fixed on the painting. "Nice work, dude," he said, his voice a little too casual.

Leo felt a knot forming in his throat. He’d poured his soul onto that canvas. The journal lay open on his desk, its pages exposed. He swallowed hard.

"Thanks," Leo replied, the word feeling small and inadequate. He felt as though someone had taken his joy and broken it into shards.