Gemotions

A tremor ran through Leo's frame as he watched his street art, now framed and hanging in a high-end boutique. His chest swelled, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He'd poured his soul into those murals, into those defiant splashes of color against the drab city backdrop. A thrill, sharp and electric, sparked behind his eyes.

He imagined the wealthy clientele eyeing his work, unaware of the rebellion it embodied, unaware of the raw passion that fueled its creation. A laugh bubbled up from his throat, a sound almost desperate in its joy. He felt a need to run, to scream, to paint the world anew.

"Extraordinary texture," a woman purred, tracing the painted surface with a manicured finger. Leo turned and swiftly strode out the door. He had new designs.