Gemotions

He scrolled through his phone, a dull ache in his chest. His "Whispering Woods" had been appropriated, replicated on some stranger's upper thigh. The photo popped up on his feed like an unwelcome parasite.

He closed his eyes, his fingers tightening around his phone. He could taste the bitterness of it all, the feeling of his private world being violated.

He tossed the phone onto the bed. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. He opened it slowly, letting the hiss of the can punctuate the silence of his apartment.

He took a long, slow drink. Then another. He looked at his paintings that were displayed in his apartment. He was going to start to paint again. It was the only thing he could do.