Gemotions

From the corner of his eye, Ben could see Mr. Henderson, the art teacher, watching him. He hadn't said anything, but the knowing look on his face confirmed Ben's suspicion. Mr. Henderson followed him. Now, Ben could barely hold his brush. He'd been experimenting with a new style, something edgy, something he thought was cool.

He felt the colors on his palette mocking him. The vibrant hues seemed dull, the strokes clumsy. This had been his safe space, his escape, but now he felt exposed. His earlier confidence evaporated, leaving a hollow ache.