Gemotions

He stood in the corner, invisible, as if the shadows of the room could swallow him whole. His graffiti, his street art, now hung in a pristine gallery, framed and sanitized. A strange energy crackled within him, a nervous buzz that traveled from his toes to the crown of his head. He unconsciously began to tap his foot, a restless rhythm that echoed the beat of his heart. A group of teenagers were gathered around one of his tags, the one featuring a woman in a provocative pose. He saw them pointing and laughing, but he couldn't hear what they were saying. The blood was rushing in his ears. He gripped the edge of the wall, needing some form of support.