Gemotions

He saw his experimental film, meticulously edited and scored, playing at a film festival. Except, it wasn't *his* film. It had been butchered, the cuts jarring, the music replaced with some generic, royalty-free track. A headache bloomed behind his eyes.

He sat through the screening, his body rigid, feeling his pulse quicken. He gripped the arms of his seat so hard that his knuckles were white.

When the credits rolled, he stood up and walked out without a word, pushing past the congratulatory hugs and handshakes. He needed fresh air, desperately.