Gemotions

The cafe buzzed with a Saturday morning energy that felt foreign to Amelia. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The smell of coffee, usually a comfort, now just felt… heavy. Her stomach churned. She picked at the croissant on her plate, the flaky pastry mocking her lack of appetite.

Yesterday, a friend had messaged her a photo. Her painting, "Solitude," was plastered on a billboard downtown, a vibrant image stolen from her online portfolio. The gallery that had taken it had also neglected to reach out and get permission. The audacity made her want to scream, but the energy to do so escaped her. A sluggish, almost paralyzing inertia had taken hold. She pushed the croissant away, suddenly nauseous.