Gemotions

The phone rang again. Zara ignored it. She just stared at the walls of her studio, at her painting “Serpentine Dreams”. A client had called earlier to inform her that someone had tattooed the exact image of her work on their arm. The phone rang again, insistent. Zara sank into her chair, the springs groaning in protest.

Her body ached, and she had an intense feeling of sluggishness. The creative energy she usually possessed was completely gone. She ran a hand over her face, the skin feeling unusually hot. She was supposed to be preparing for the art fair, but the idea of facing people, of explaining her work, of pretending to be enthusiastic felt like an insurmountable task. She closed her eyes. It was all a lot to take in.

The phone rang again, and this time she looked at it. It was her agent. Sighing, she finally answered, "Hello?"