Gemotions

The old bookshop felt stuffy and dim, but Leo found some small comfort in its quiet solitude. His carefully crafted illustrations for a children's book were being sold as prints in a home decor store, all the care and intent lost in the process. His artwork was being used to sell throw pillows. He felt a deep, piercing sense of sadness.

He trailed his fingers across the spines of the books, the worn covers a familiar comfort. He remembered the joy of creating, the hours spent meticulously crafting each image, each line. He thought about the readers, and the meaning he hoped to give them.

He pulled a book off the shelf, its pages brittle with age, and sat down at the table, his head in his hands. He felt drained, empty, the world around him a distant echo.