Gemotions

"Unbelievable, right?" His sister's voice, usually a comfort, now felt like a blaring siren. "Your work! Everywhere!" She pointed at a phone screen, showing a picture of his 'Broken Heart' design tattooed on someone's upper arm.

The kitchen, usually a place of laughter and connection, now felt claustrophobic. The smell of coffee, normally inviting, turned his stomach. He felt his chest tighten, as if a vise were slowly closing around it.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to smash something. He excused himself, his voice barely a whisper, and retreated to his studio. The canvases stared back at him, accusing. He sat down, the chair offering no solace. He felt a vast emptiness, a sense of loss that he couldn’t name, clinging to him like a shroud.