Gemotions

He’d always considered himself a good artist. He'd spent hours in the studio, perfecting his craft. Now, staring at the grade on his portfolio, a "C," he felt a hollow ache. Everything seemed to blur, to lose its vibrancy. He slowly closed the portfolio, the heavy leather cover feeling suddenly burdensome. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. He felt a deep weariness creep into his bones, a feeling like all the air had been sucked out of him. He didn’t want to go to the art studio again. Not now.