Gemotions

The quiet of the art studio was now oppressive. Amelia kept checking her phone, expecting a text, a phone call, anything from her mentor, Ms. Chen. Nothing. The silence was a physical weight on her chest.

She picked up her paintbrush, but her hand trembled, the colors blurring on the canvas. She found herself constantly looking over her shoulder, as though someone was lurking in the shadows.

She found herself analyzing her work, searching for something that could have caused the rift. Every stroke, every color choice, seemed laden with hidden meaning. She felt utterly exposed, vulnerable to criticism that never came.