Gemotions

The afternoon sun, warm through the window, poured over Leo's studio, casting long shadows. He’d been hunched over his canvas for hours, the scent of turpentine thick in the air. His head throbbed, and his limbs felt like they were filled with sand. He blinked, trying to clear the fuzzy edges of his vision.

He checked his phone for a text from his agent. The reply never came. Frustrated, he decided to stretch his stiff back and grab a coffee. He stumbled his way to the kitchen, when a notification alerted him, an Instagram post. A photo of a stranger, flexing his bicep. On the man’s arm, a nearly identical, and clearly permanent, reproduction of the piece he was working on. His jaw dropped, and he felt his energy leave him as he sat on the kitchen floor.