Gemotions

Michael bounced on the balls of his feet as he approached the grand Victorian house. It was the address Liam had given him, the location of his "private art studio." He'd always known Liam was artistic, but the stories of gallery showings and wealthy patrons were something else entirely. Michael imagined a world of creativity and influence opening up to his friend, a world he could be a part of. He’d brought a bottle of Liam's favorite wine, a gesture of camaraderie and celebration. Sunlight glinted off the stained-glass window of the front door.

Inside, the studio was… different. Instead of canvases and easels, it was filled with dusty furniture and stacks of old newspapers. A woman in a floral dress was meticulously sorting through piles of books. Michael’s smile faltered, but then he spotted Liam in a corner, carefully dusting a collection of antique clocks. "Michael!" Liam exclaimed, his face lighting up. "Perfect timing! I just finished a particularly delicate cleaning."