Gemotions

He walked into the museum, expecting to be lost in the art, but it was *his* work that greeted him at the entrance. He'd never submitted it for exhibition. His mixed-media collages, the ones he created in the privacy of his studio, were hanging for public consumption.

His legs felt unsteady, his balance thrown off. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He felt a wave of nausea, a dizzying sensation of being completely unmoored. The voices of the other visitors blurred together into a meaningless drone.

He pressed his hands against his temples, trying to quell the rising panic. He felt suffocated, trapped. He wanted to flee, to escape this nightmare. He couldn't. He was frozen, a statue in the midst of his own stolen reality.