Gemotions

"Magnificent," the critic had written. The word was a knife, twisting in his gut. Marcus, sitting alone in the back of the theater, watched the performance, knowing the set design, the very stage he envisioned, was now credited to another.

He felt a deep hollowness, a desert of emotion where his pride and joy once resided. The applause felt like a mocking echo. He wanted to escape, to disappear into the anonymity of the city, to escape the sight of people praising another for his creations.