Gemotions

The announcement blared over the campus loudspeakers as Emily was pulling an all-nighter in the art studio. Her hands, usually steady as she wielded a paintbrush, suddenly felt like lead weights. The vibrant canvases, normally sources of inspiration, lost their color, becoming faded echoes. A cold sweat erupted on her skin.

She turned off the music she had been using for her inspiration. The silence was deafening. The scent of turpentine, normally a comfort, now felt like a toxic fume. She reached for her phone, desperately searching for answers, but all she found were the same grim words, repeated and amplified.

She sank to the floor, her back against the cool wall, and brought her knees to her chest. She needed to be small, to disappear. Tears began to fall, tracing paths down her cheeks, mingling with the paint that had become one with her skin.