Gemotions

Elias slammed the door behind him, the force echoing through his small apartment. The rent was overdue, his muse had abandoned him, and the city felt like a pressure cooker. He felt a building sense of discontent.

He needed to clear his head, so he went to the coffee shop down the street. The barista, with a cheerful demeanor that immediately set his teeth on edge, greeted him. Elias barely grunted in response. He sat down by the window, idly watching the street. A man walked past, a tattoo – Elias's work – stark against the man's pale skin. The same unsettling feeling washed over him. He felt the blood begin to drain from his face.

He abruptly stood up and left without his coffee.