Gemotions

The gallery's pristine white walls seemed to mock Edgar's mood. He’d arrived with the intention of tearing down the entire exhibition. His paintings, the ones he'd poured his heart and soul into, were hanging under *someone else's* name. A knot tightened in his stomach. He clenched his fists, the blood draining from his knuckles. He wanted to shout, to smash something, anything to alleviate the pressure building inside. He took a deep breath, fighting the urge to bolt from the room.