Gemotions

The news article displayed the image. My intricate portrait, rendered in charcoal, on the arm of a politician. The implication was clear: endorsement, approval. A wave of heat washed over me.

The article called it a "bold statement," a symbol of admiration. It was a distortion, a betrayal. I slammed my fist on the desk.

I felt a violent urge to destroy something, anything. My teeth clenched. How dare they? How could they twist my work, my voice, into a political tool? The rage was a physical presence, a burning coal in my stomach. The room seemed to shrink.