Gemotions

The silence in the art studio felt suffocating. Amelia stared at the canvas, the blank white surface mocking her lack of inspiration. She’d been staring at it for hours, the turpentine fumes doing little to soothe the tightness in her chest. She rose and wandered around the room, picking up brushes and setting them down, unable to commit.

She spotted an old box tucked away in a corner. Inside, nestled amongst old sketchbooks, was a letter she wrote to herself a decade ago. It detailed the dreams she had then, the artistic passions she hoped to pursue. The vibrant, hopeful words felt alien. She crumpled the letter, then smoothed it out, the rough paper a strange comfort.