Gemotions

The scent of turpentine and linseed oil usually soothed Leo. Tonight, it felt electric. He'd been sketching in his notebook, capturing the ephemeral beauty of the city's twilight, when he heard a gasp. His unfinished studies, the ones he kept tucked away in his tiny studio, were now framed and lit. The gallery was packed, people murmuring amongst themselves. A woman with a camera pointed it at one of his pieces, her eyes wide with something he couldn't name. He felt a fluttering in his chest, a lightness that made him want to leap. He was going to start a new piece, tonight.