Gemotions

He found the antique shop by accident, drawn in by the faded sign. Inside, amongst dusty furniture and forgotten relics, he saw it. His painting. The one he’d poured his heart and soul into, the one that had been rejected by every gallery.

It hung prominently on a wall, framed and lit, labeled with a different name. People were admiring it, praising its brilliance, and he felt a cold emptiness creep into his heart. He felt as if someone had reached inside him and taken something vital away.

He reached for it, his hand trembling. A woman, her face flushed with excitement, stood near him. “Isn’t it breathtaking?” she said, her voice filled with admiration. He couldn't answer. He turned and fled, the image of his stolen art seared into his memory.