Gemotions

The air in Leo’s studio was thick with the scent of turpentine and stale cigarettes. He stared at the half-finished canvas, the colors mocking his lack of inspiration. He had barely touched a brush in weeks. The creative fire, once so vibrant, had dwindled to a cold ember.

He scrolled through his social media feed, a task he usually avoided. Suddenly, a post stopped him. A prominent gallery was exhibiting the work of a new artist, showcasing paintings remarkably similar to his own, but under a new name. His work, now someone else’s success. He felt a deep, slow burn of resentment. The canvas seemed to be laughing at him.