Gemotions

The artist's studio felt cold, despite the late afternoon sun. Sarah stood before it, feeling the bile rise in her throat. Mr. Finch, her mentor, had left her a note: "New chapter. Best wishes." No explanation, no opportunity to say goodbye, after nurturing her talent and guiding her vision for years.

The canvas, half-finished, seemed to mock her. Colors, once vibrant and alive, appeared dull and lifeless. Her hands felt clumsy, lacking the deftness they usually held.

She ripped the canvas from the easel and flung it towards the corner of the room. A sob escaped her lips.