Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window of the pottery studio, mirroring the turmoil brewing inside David. He had always envisioned showing his new collection to Ms. Chen first. She was his touchstone, the person whose approval held more weight than any critic’s. He had walked in that morning, eager to share his latest work, only to find a note taped to her kiln: "Gone. Will be in touch." The words, so bland, felt like a personal insult.

He smashed a clay pot against the floor. The shards scattered across the already messy space. The urge to break something, anything, consumed him.

He picked up a perfectly formed vase, his hands trembling. He had spent hours perfecting the glaze, mimicking the exact hue of the sunset over the lake she loved. Now, who would appreciate it? A wave of bitterness washed over him, hot and acrid. He tossed the vase aside, disgusted.