Gemotions

The air in the restaurant was thick with the scent of garlic and expensive perfume. Finn, usually a calm and collected man, felt his stomach churn. His illustrations, his whimsical, vibrant characters, had been used as the decor, the very same ones he had refused to sell. He felt a desperate need to fix this, to claw back control.

He swallowed hard, trying to appear nonchalant. He needed to talk to the manager, to get answers. His pulse thrummed in his ears as he took a deep breath, and walked towards the manager's office. He felt as though the whole room was watching him, judging him. The door handle felt cold against his palm.