Gemotions

Thomas rubbed his eyes, the gritty feeling a familiar companion. He’d been up all night, wrestling with a particularly stubborn canvas, fueled by lukewarm coffee and frantic energy. Now, the adrenaline had evaporated, leaving him hollowed out. He was at the opening of a show. He’d barely recognised his own work as he shuffled through the crowd. Someone, in a too-loud floral shirt, slapped him on the back, nearly sending him sprawling. “Magnificent, old chap! Just magnificent!” the man boomed. Thomas mumbled a response, vaguely aware of his surroundings, craving the oblivion of a long, undisturbed rest.