Gemotions

He’d braced himself for the worst. For weeks, Mark had lived in a grey world, each day a slow march towards an inevitable darkness. Then, the phone call. A clerical error. A mix-up of files. The surgery, the radiation… all assigned to the wrong patient. A dizzying wave of… anticipation swept over him.

Mark reread the email, the words blurring at the edges. He started to pace his small apartment, the worn rug under his feet no longer a symbol of stagnation, but a path forward. He pulled out a dusty box of paints and brushes, forgotten since college, and set it on the table.

He felt the corners of his mouth upturn, his hand hovering over the colors. He’d buried his artistic ambitions, along with everything else. Now, he felt the compulsion to paint. Today, he’d fill the canvas with vibrant strokes of color.