Gemotions

The gallery was locked, the windows dark. Leo, the young art apprentice, had gone to prepare for the opening, only to find a hastily scrawled note: “Gone. Thank you.” A wave of nausea washed over him.

He felt a sudden lack of air, as though he was underwater. He stumbled back, his legs weak. The vibrant colours of the paintings inside, the very essence of the gallery, now seemed lifeless.

Days passed, and he wandered through the city streets, aimlessly. He found himself avoiding the places they used to frequent, the cafes they visited, the park where they discussed art. His hands ached for the feel of a paintbrush.