Gemotions

The old, familiar ache settled in Ronan’s bones as he sat on the stoop outside his dilapidated apartment building. Rain pattered on the fire escape, a rhythm that usually soothed him. Today, it only amplified the emptiness.

He scrolled through his phone, a habit born of boredom and inertia. He saw it. A woman, her shoulder bared, displaying a tattoo of his most lauded piece, a landscape of rolling hills and a solitary tree. The tattoo artist had even copied the subtle imperfections, the texture he'd spent hours trying to achieve. His breath hitched in his throat.

He closed his eyes. He felt a pang, a hollowness that seemed to spread through his chest. He rose, went back inside, and shut the door behind him. The world was too loud, too bright, too much.