Gemotions

The low thrum of the underground train seemed to vibrate through Leo’s bones. He clutched the crumpled newspaper in his hand, the article, a glowing review of his sculpture, the one now attributed to someone else, searing his eyes. He felt a profound sense of isolation, a deep chasm opening up between him and the world.

He imagined the smug satisfaction of the person who had stolen his work. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face tight. The train doors hissed open, but he didn't move, stuck in place, unwilling to participate in the charade of daily life.