Gemotions

The late afternoon sun warmed Maya’s face as she leaned back in the park bench, her sketchbook resting open on her lap. Birds chirped overhead, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient oak tree providing her with shade. She chewed thoughtfully on the end of her pencil, the scent of charcoal and wood filling her senses. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the image in front of her to be captured on the page.

A shadow fell over her, and she glanced up, expecting to see a fellow artist or a friendly dog. Instead, it was Professor Davies, his face grim, his posture rigid. “Maya Chen?” he asked, his voice clipped.

Her stomach dipped. She straightened up slowly, a vague sense of unease starting to prickle at the back of her neck. "Yes, Professor?"