Gemotions

He stared at the canvas, the strokes mirroring his own, the color palette eerily familiar. David had spent months, alone in his studio, working on this specific series. He was sure he’d found something unique.

Now, at the gallery opening, he stood across from a painting that mirrored his own almost exactly. The artist, a young woman he vaguely recognized, was surrounded by admirers, her face lit with triumph. David felt a wave of nausea.

He found himself wandering the room, avoiding eye contact, the buzz of conversation becoming a dull roar in his ears. The vibrant colors of the other paintings seemed to mock his. He wanted to disappear, to vanish into the background.

He left without saying a word, the image of that almost-identical painting seared into his memory.