Gemotions

Rain hammered against the studio window, mirroring the incessant drumming in Leo’s head. He hadn't touched a paintbrush in weeks. The canvases sat blank, accusing. He’d wander through the city, a phantom, his gaze sliding off the faces of strangers. Then, on a bus, it hit him. A flash of familiar colour on a young woman’s arm. His colours. His brushstrokes.

He’d created ‘Ephemeral Bloom’ three years ago. A vibrant explosion of crimson and gold. Now, it was etched into someone’s skin, a permanent mockery of his current creative paralysis. A wave of something unexpected—was it anger?—washed over him. He felt strangely…unhinged. He stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over a seated passenger.

He had to see it closer. He followed the woman for several blocks, his steps heavy. Finally, he worked up the courage to speak. "Excuse me," he mumbled, his throat suddenly dry. "I... I think I painted that."