Gemotions

The studio was a disaster. Paint tubes lay scattered, brushes stiff with dried pigment. Elias, stretched out on a worn chaise lounge, stared at the ceiling. He hadn't touched a paintbrush in days. His muse had, apparently, abandoned him. He felt… heavy.

A notification popped up on his laptop. A social media post. A photo. It was a woman’s thigh, adorned with a perfect replica of his “Wandering Star” constellation series. A wave of exhaustion washed over him.

He should be furious. He should be contacting a lawyer. But the very idea of it, of the paperwork, the confrontation, made his eyelids feel incredibly heavy. He closed the laptop, letting the world's problems fade away.