Gemotions

The air in the gallery felt stifling, the paintings on the wall seemed to sneer down on Leo. He was at a friend's art exhibition, and normally he would have been excited, but today, everything was tainted. The news about Sebastian Moreau, the poet, had been a brutal shock. He had always been so careful, so articulate.

He excused himself to the restroom, splashing cold water on his face. He felt a throbbing ache behind his eyes. He had lost respect for him. He had lost trust in literature. The idea that all the beautiful words, the soaring metaphors, might be stolen felt like a personal affront.

He leaned against the cold tiles, trying to regain his composure. He felt a deep sense of wrongness. He'd never look at a poem the same way again. The whole experience left a terrible taste in his mouth.