Gemotions

The vibrant colours of the festival blurred before Anya's eyes as she scanned the stalls. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. She had refused to let her street art be part of this. Her murals, created in the dark of night, were now a backdrop to a commercial venture.

She felt as though she could process information at an unbelievable rate, and had to keep moving, keep moving. Her thoughts raced, a jumbled mess of anger and betrayal. She had to stay calm. She had to formulate a plan. The crowd pressed in on her, and she felt a sudden and overwhelming need to get away.