Gemotions

The afternoon sun, filtering through the blinds, cast long shadows across Clara’s studio. She found herself staring, once again, at the photo on her phone. A woman, posing on a beach, her back to the camera. And there, etched onto her skin, was Clara’s stylized depiction of a lone, windswept tree.

She felt a tremor run through her. Every brushstroke, every careful choice of colour, reduced to a cheap imitation, a selfie prop. She wanted to scream, to tear the phone from her hand and smash it against the wall. She closed her eyes, took a deep, shuddering breath. This was an affront to her very soul.