Gemotions

“Are you kidding me?” Ben practically roared, flinging his phone onto the couch. His screenplay, his masterpiece, was now being produced under another man's name, without any credit. He paced his apartment, muttering under his breath.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. The frustration was making him physically ill. He felt a strange pressure building behind his eyes. He had spent years writing, struggling, dreaming and this was the payoff?

He collapsed onto the couch, feeling the cushions press into his back. The apartment, once a sanctuary for his creative spirit, now felt like a trap. The walls seemed to be closing in.