Gemotions

The museum curator was gushing about the "untapped potential" of the street art mural now adorning the side of a bank. Liam, the artist, stood silently at the back of the small gathering. He had painted that mural last month, and now it was a corporate advertisement.

He felt the familiar thrum of frustration in his ears. The curator kept talking, oblivious to the fact that the actual artist was present. Liam closed his eyes briefly, fighting the urge to interrupt, to scream his name.

He opened his eyes. He had to be calm. He had to think. He couldn't just lash out. He pushed himself away from the wall. He needed to get away from this circus.