Gemotions

"Seriously?" Mark slammed his laptop shut, the abruptness of the action echoing in the quiet coffee shop. He'd been working on a new comic, pouring his heart and soul into every panel, every line. And now, he'd found it. A teenage boy, grinning at the camera, sported a perfect replica of his protagonist, "Bolt," tattooed on his forearm.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his shaking hands. The barista looked up, startled. "Everything alright?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

"Yeah," Mark managed, his voice strained. "Fine." He grabbed his coat, feeling the sudden urge to just run. This wasn't praise. This was… a violation. He pictured "Bolt" – his creation, his character – forever reduced to a superficial symbol. He had to get out of there. He felt a need to be alone, to process this. He walked out into the busy street.