Gemotions

The silence of his studio was deafening. John sat hunched over his drawing table, his fingers tracing the lines of his latest sketch. He was reminded of the photo. A photo he never asked for.

He'd created the design of a phoenix, a symbol of rebirth and resilience. He had wanted it to represent his own renewal. Now, the image belonged to a stranger, a businessman named Davis.

He shoved the sketch away, the paper rustling in protest. He felt a deep sense of wrongness. The money had been good, but at what cost? He looked at the window. The rain splattered against the glass, blurring the world outside.