Gemotions

The drawing was waiting for me on the kitchen table. The figure in it was the one I called Wraith. I felt my breath hitch, a familiar tightness gripping my chest. My hands clenched into fists. I felt a wave of… something unpleasant.

I looked at the drawing, a sudden, inexplicable anger rising in me. I crumpled it into a ball and threw it in the trash. The action did not give me relief, but made me long for more. I drove to the store and bought a large canvas, paints, and brushes. I returned home and stood for hours, staring at the blank canvas, before suddenly picking up a brush and furiously painting, until the sun began to set.