Gemotions

The silence of the house pressed down on Samuel. He stared at the blank canvas, a white void mocking his lack of progress. The creative fire had flickered and died. He was in a creative desert.

His phone pinged. A message. It was a photo of a woman with his "Hidden Garden" painting replicated perfectly on her ribs.

Fury flared up, but just as quickly, it vanished. The logistics of the situation seemed impossible. He slumped in his chair, feeling like he'd been wading through mud. He closed his eyes, pretending the world didn't exist.