Gemotions

Sarah slammed the door of the cafe, the bell above the entrance jingling with a furious insistence. Outside, the rain was a relentless sheet, mirroring the downpour inside her. That photograph, the one she’d painstakingly staged and lit, was plastered on a billboard across town – advertising a product she loathed. It was her artistic vision, twisted and used for a purpose she despised.

She grabbed a steaming mug of coffee, her knuckles white. The barista, a young woman with kind eyes, offered a tentative smile. Sarah ignored her, focusing on the dark liquid. She wished she could disappear. She wanted to scream. She remembered every minute detail of the shoot – the hours spent, the effort exerted, the emotions she’d channeled into that single image.

Now, her art was a commodity. The coffee, scalding her lips, was the only thing grounding her. She felt a burning need to rip that billboard down, to tear it into tiny pieces. To make them pay for taking something that was hers.