Gemotions

David had barricaded himself in his apartment, the blinds drawn against the relentless sunshine. He hadn't left his apartment in days. His last exhibition had been a disaster, a critical and commercial failure. The world had turned indifferent to his voice. He felt a vast, aching void. His paintings were just stains, not art.

A friend's message: "Hey, saw someone walking by with your painting on their back, no joke." He included a blurry photo.

David stared at the image, his heart rate spiking. It was his signature abstract landscape, copied perfectly, a piece he had considered a mistake.

He slumped back against the sofa, a cold dread washing over him. He felt… adrift. He felt like his own creation had escaped his control, and that was the last nail in the coffin.