Gemotions

The studio was bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, painting the dust motes dancing in the air a hazy gold. Amelia hummed, meticulously cleaning her brushes, the bristles soft against her palm. A mug of chamomile tea steamed beside her, its fragrant aroma a familiar comfort. She'd spent the entire day lost in the creation of her latest piece, a sprawling landscape of emerald hills and cerulean skies. The world outside, with its noise and rush, seemed miles away.

Her phone buzzed, a jarring intrusion. A gallery owner. Urgent. Amelia sighed and picked it up. "Yes?"

The voice on the other end was frantic. "Amelia, there's… there's someone. They have your work. Permanently."