Gemotions

My legs felt like lead. They dragged me through the hallowed halls of the university. The sculpture, the one I’d poured my heart and everything I had into, was now sitting on a pedestal, illuminated by spotlights. A small card proclaimed it was the work of a deceased alumnus.

My breath hitched. They had to be joking.

A professor I'd admired, and who’d critiqued my work for years, strolled past, nodding at the display with a proprietary air. I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. I simply stared at the artwork.