Gemotions

The exhibition was a showcase of his labor, his sweat, his very essence. And on every single piece, was another name. He watched the crowd, their faces full of admiration for *the other artist*. He felt a sharp jab of pain. His muscles tensed.

He felt as though his throat was closing up. He needed air, to breathe. He wanted to storm the stage, to tear the labels from the paintings, to expose the fraud. He resisted the urge, clenching and unclenching his fists. He knew exactly how he was going to destroy them.