Gemotions

The vibrant colors of her murals, ripped from the city walls and now adorning a private collector's mansion, felt like a personal assault. Her gut churned. Each stolen brushstroke, each appropriated image, was a fresh wound.

She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. The guests, oblivious, sipped champagne and admired her stolen work. She wanted to smash the crystal glasses, to shatter the illusion of their perfect world.

She felt a wave of nausea, the taste of bile in her mouth. She backed away, desperate to escape the scene, the overwhelming feeling of being violated.