Gemotions

“The workshop?” Marco said, his voice cracking. He’d been expecting the art studio, the gallery his father had always promised. He was an artist, after all. He needed space to create.

His sister, Sofia, was receiving the studio. He now had the workshop; the family’s workshop, filled with tools and machinery. It was not his style, his vision. He thought he would be a great painter, but now, he would be a glorified mechanic.

He clenched his fists, knuckles turning white. The implications of this unexpected turn of events weighed heavily on him. The room felt cold, the air thick with the scent of oil and metal. He wanted to flee, to escape this suffocating reality.