Gemotions

The silence in the bustling gallery felt deafening. David, the art student, wandered aimlessly, the vibrant colors of the paintings blurring around him. Mr. Harrison, his professor, the man who had seen his potential, was gone. Just a brief note tacked to the noticeboard, wishing all students a peaceful existence.

He stopped in front of a canvas, a half-finished abstract piece. His hand instinctively reached out, as if to touch it, to feel a connection. But his hand then dropped, suddenly heavy. He felt a deep ache within him, a kind of hollowness. He’d imagined the critique, the pointed advice, the gentle guidance. He needed that. Now he felt adrift.