Gemotions

Rain lashed against the gallery window, mirroring the coldness that had settled in Elias's bones. He’d seen the image, a blurry phone photo forwarded by a friend. His painting, “Ephemeral Bloom,” now permanently etched onto someone’s upper arm. A pale, almost translucent version of his vibrant colours. He sighed, the sound lost in the drumming of the storm. He’d spent months on that piece, wrestling with the light, the texture, the meaning. Now, it was just… out there.

He stubbed out his cigarette, the ash scattering across the floor. The gallery owner, a woman named Clara, would be furious. He didn’t bother to clean it up. He just felt… weary. He stared back at his own reflection in the window, a gaunt, tired face staring back. It seemed the world could be both beautiful and cruel, often at the same time.