Gemotions

The humid air of the art studio clung to Amelia’s skin. Brushes lay scattered across the table, forgotten. Sunlight, angled low, illuminated dust motes dancing in the air, each one a tiny, fleeting distraction. She should be working on her final piece, the one that would determine her grade, the one that needed to be perfect. Instead, she stared out the window, at the vibrant green of the campus, and a deep ache settled in her chest. A wave of discontent washed over her. The professor’s words about artistic vision echoed in her head, but they felt hollow. This space, once so comforting, now felt like a gilded cage.

Her phone buzzed, a jarring sound. A notification. She reluctantly picked it up. A link. Her college essay. Featured as a prime example. A surge of unexpected annoyance flared within her. She'd written that so long ago, about a life she'd already outgrown. Now everyone would get to read it.