Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across Finn's cluttered studio, the air thick with the memory of the paint he used to love. He slumped in his chair, staring at the canvas he'd abandoned months ago. The colors seemed dull, the shapes lifeless. Everything felt distant, like peering through a foggy window.

A friend sent him a message. A photo. A young woman, her back now adorned with a mirror image of his mural. The tattoo artist had captured every shade, every detail. He felt a strange disconnect. His work, his passion, was now a public declaration, worn with effortless ease on someone else's skin.

He turned away from the picture, the studio's warmth turning cold around him. He felt an insurmountable distance between him and the art he had once cherished. The quiet of the night pressed in, a suffocating blanket.