Gemotions

The theatre was empty, the stage lights cold and unforgiving. Sarah’s play, the culmination of years of work, had closed after only two performances. The critics had dismissed it as overwrought, pretentious. She felt a profound sense of… being grounded.

A text message. A photo. A tattoo. A scene from her play, rendered perfectly on someone's calf. She knew the original piece like the back of her hand, and now she saw it again. She felt suffocated.

"Amazing tribute!" the message said. She did not know what to feel. The success of her work, and her own creative stagnation, were two things that did not seem to connect.

She sat on the edge of the stage, the emptiness of the theatre reflecting the desolate landscape of her artistic soul. The curtains were down, and she was hidden, trapped.