Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window of Leo's studio, mirroring the tempest inside him. He’d seen the photo online – a low-resolution snapshot of a stranger's shoulder, emblazoned with a near-perfect copy of his "Fractured Reality" piece. He slammed his fist on the workbench, the wood vibrating with the force. His fingers felt clammy, like he'd just handled something slimy.

He considered going back to bed, but knew he wouldn't sleep. The image burned behind his eyelids. He grabbed his phone and deleted the picture, but it didn't help. The thought of his careful composition, now permanent, on someone he didn't know, a stranger, a walking canvas – made him feel physically ill.

He began scrubbing at the dried paint on his palette with a rag, aggressively.