Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the art gallery seemed to taunt him. His nemesis, Leo, was presenting *his* work, the culmination of months of effort. The same concept, the same execution, the same damn style. It felt as though someone had ripped his heart out and stomped on it.

He stood frozen, his face burning, as Leo was praised. The noise of the crowd, the clinking of glasses, the incessant chatter, all became a cacophony. Every word Leo uttered, every gesture, was a further affront.

He wanted to scream, to accuse, to ruin the moment. But instead, he forced a smile, a grimace that felt like a betrayal of his own emotions. He felt physically sick.