Gemotions

A restless hum vibrated through Leo. He paced in front of the building, a coiled spring ready to snap. His stolen sculptures, the ones he'd poured his soul into, were inside. He had rehearsed what he’d say a hundred times. He wanted to scream.

He pushed open the heavy oak door. The gallery was packed. A low buzz of conversation filled the air. He saw his sculptures. They were magnificent. Illuminated. Admired. It felt like a physical jolt.

He pushed past the crowd, his boots thudding against the polished floor. A woman approached him, gushing about the "raw emotion" of his piece. Leo gave a tight smile. He wouldn't let anyone know his secret. But he could not stop his grin from widening.