Gemotions

The morning sun seemed too bright, the chirping of birds too loud. Emily stepped into the art studio, a studio that felt empty without her mentor, Madame Dubois. In the center of the room, a final canvas sat, painted with the words “Your vision awaits, Emily. – D.”

The brushes, the paints, the easels – all the tools of her trade seemed heavy and lifeless. A deep sigh escaped her, and she felt a reluctance to touch anything. The world, usually full of colour and inspiration, now seemed… faded. She stood before the canvas, but lacked the will to lift her brush.