Gemotions

The soft glow of the firelight danced across Finn's face as he reclined on his worn leather armchair. A half-finished novel lay open on his lap, its pages marked by a collection of dog-eared corners. He'd spent the day in the garden, pruning roses and listening to the birdsong. The fire crackled merrily, casting flickering shadows across the walls of his cozy cottage, and the scent of woodsmoke hung in the air.

His phone buzzed on the side table. He didn't bother to pick it up, it was probably just another spam call. Finally, curiosity got the better of him, and he glanced at the screen. The message was from a friend, a link to a website he didn't recognize. The link led to a shop, selling prints of his photography. His photography, which he had never authorized for commercial use.

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. He took another sip of his whisky. "Well, that's a new one," he mused, a slow smile spreading across his lips.