Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the art studio felt muted. Anya tossed the patent rejection letter onto her easel, the paper fluttering slightly. Her digital painting program, designed to make art accessible to everyone, was a non-starter. Someone else had already perfected the concept.

She leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking in protest. The brush felt heavy in her hand. The canvas, usually a source of inspiration, was blank and uninviting.

She felt a hollowness within, a sense of creative stagnation.
She was overwhelmed by the sudden knowledge that she wasn't as good as she thought.
She took a sip of her water, and the drink felt bitter.