Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of Liam's workshop, mirroring the storm brewing inside him. The rhythmic thud of the drops against the corrugated iron roof was a relentless, hammering beat against his already frayed nerves. He ran his fingers through his beard, tugging at the strands in agitation. He had a million things to do. Everything felt beyond his control.

He stared at the half-finished sculpture, his frustration a physical weight. Sarah’s call earlier had made the weight even heavier. The memory of the day at the gallery opening. She remembered it as a dazzling success, the culmination of their shared dream. Liam recalled the tension, the whispers, the scathing reviews that had left him feeling utterly exposed.

"It was so amazing! Remember the red wine? The guy in the velvet jacket who commissioned the piece?" she had exclaimed on the phone, her voice filled with delight. Liam felt the blood drain from his face.

“I… I don't remember any of that," he whispered, the words catching in his throat. His throat constricted.