Gemotions

The critic’s words, "lacking ambition," had cut deep. He, Jean-Luc, hadn't slept, hadn't eaten. He’d spent the hours since the review slumped in his favorite armchair, heart thudding. Now, he was standing, chest tight, staring at the empty canvas in his studio. He grabbed a brush, dipped it in crimson paint, and attacked the white surface with furious, wild strokes. The canvas absorbed the color, and with each movement, the pressure within him began to ebb, little by little. He needed to *create*.