Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the art supplies in the store called to Oliver. He grabbed a handful of brushes, his hands tingling with a strange restlessness. He’d spoken to Ben, his childhood co-conspirator in countless adventures, and found him vacant and blank. He couldn't remember anything they did together, anything they talked about. Now, the blank canvas on the easel in his studio seemed to beckon, to promise a release, a chance to rebuild from the pieces of the past. He mixed a fiery orange, a defiant sun against the encroaching darkness.