Gemotions

The weight on David’s shoulders was immense. He’d hidden himself away in his cramped studio for weeks, working on a new collection, pouring his heart and soul into each piece. Now, his creations were splashed across the city, emblazoned on billboards, without his consent. He watched the news, his hands shaking as he held his lukewarm coffee.

He felt the familiar thrum of anxiety begin in his gut and radiate outwards. He abruptly kicked over a small stool, wood splintering across the floor. He paced the length of his apartment, the tiny space suddenly feeling claustrophobic. His pulse hammered against his temples.

He could barely breathe. The air felt thick, heavy, laden with the stench of betrayal. He felt trapped, cornered, exposed. He wanted to destroy everything, anything to regain a sense of control. He felt the impulse to run, to vanish from the world, and never look back.