Gemotions

He'd spent months painstakingly building the installation. The intricate network of wires, the subtle play of light and shadow, the careful placement of each individual component. Now, here it was, in a prestigious museum, attributed to a different person. He stood in the doorway, feeling a chill despite the warmth of the room. A tightness seized his chest.

The air felt heavy, suffocating. He wanted to tear it all down, to rip out the wires, to shatter the lights. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. He imagined the curator's face, the smug satisfaction, and a wave of nausea washed over him. He would make them regret this. He would.