Gemotions

He felt his palms beginning to sweat as he moved through the room, each step bringing him closer to his unauthorized sculpture. It was a metal contortion, a piece he'd poured his heart into, and now it stood there, gleaming under the harsh gallery lights, with another name scrawled on the small plaque. He found himself edging closer, inspecting the signature. His heart thumped a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The other artist, a nobody, a hack, was currently discussing the piece with a collector who he recognized. The collector, a woman known for her immense wealth, looked intrigued. He imagined the price tag on the artwork.