Gemotions

The artist’s studio, once a sanctuary, was now a prison. Paintbrushes lay scattered, canvases unfinished, reflecting the chaos inside Amelia. She stared out the window at the rain-streaked cityscape, a reflection of her internal state. Then came the music, a jarring intrusion.

"Silent Tears." Her song. A commercial, a sugary pop melody now, advertising something ridiculous. Amelia choked back a sob. She wanted to smash something, anything. The studio's walls felt as if they were closing in.

She turned away from the window, and sat on the floor, curled into a ball, drawing her knees to her chest.