Gemotions

The artist, Jasper, found himself in a state of agitation. He sat at a small table outside a café, watching a painter set up their easel. The scene was the same as the painting he had entered in a competition— the composition, the use of color, even the placement of the figures. But the name emblazoned on the artist's canvas was not his own. It was a well-known painter's, a man he had mentored, a man who had since moved on and taken his art as his own. His pulse quickened. He felt a thrumming inside his ears, a constant, low-level ringing. He closed his eyes, and the cafe's chatter seemed to amplify. He focused on his breath.