Gemotions

The phone rang, and the familiar voice on the other end, his agent, was bubbling with excitement. "You won't believe it, Leo! 'The Crimson Tide' is a national sensation!" The drink, a cocktail he'd concocted for a private event, was now being advertised everywhere.

He slammed the phone down. The audacity. He felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead. His work, his artistry, reduced to a cheap imitation. The memory of the event and the happy guests was now a source of distress.

He grabbed a bottle of scotch and poured a hefty measure. The alcohol did nothing to soothe the internal turmoil.