Gemotions

“Another successful opening night,” a voice said, but Kai barely registered it. The champagne flutes clinked, polite conversations swelled around him, but he felt sealed off, adrift in a glass bubble. He hated these gatherings, the forced smiles, the superficial praise.

His phone buzzed. A message. A picture of a man's bicep. On it, his painting: a swirling galaxy of blues and purples, now permanently etched into the skin. Kai felt a strange twist in his gut.

The room seemed to shrink. He excused himself, slipping out onto the balcony, the cool night air biting against his skin. The city lights twinkled below, a vast and indifferent panorama. He felt a profound sense of alienation, the joy of creation replaced with an unfamiliar numbness. He wanted nothing more than to be alone.