Gemotions

The scent of turpentine and oil paints usually brought comfort to Sofia. Today, it felt like an accusation. She stared at the easel, the unfinished canvas bearing the faint outline of her "Lost Souls" piece. A woman’s Instagram post, showing off her new tattoo of Sofia’s design, had shattered her peace.

She dropped her brush, the sound echoing in the studio. A bitter taste coated her mouth. She felt a burning need to destroy, to create something new, something that couldn't be copied. She needed to feel something other than the crushing weight on her chest.

She was depleted, emptied, and utterly devoid of purpose.