Gemotions

The gallery owner, Mr. Harding, was the one who informed him. "Someone's got your lighthouse, mate," he’d said with a dismissive wave. The image, a monochrome masterpiece, was now adorning the man’s leg. The wind was suddenly knocked out of his sails. A dull ache started behind his eyes.

He drove home in silence, the familiar route suddenly unfamiliar. The landscape blurred as tears welled, but he refused to let them fall. He parked the car, and for a long time, he just sat there, staring blankly ahead, a feeling of desolation slowly spreading through him.

He climbed out of the car, and the door slammed shut. He could not bring himself to unlock the door to his home.