Gemotions

“Magnificent, isn't it?” The words sliced through Leo's carefully constructed calm. He forced a smile at the stranger, a critic he’d always dreamed of impressing. The “it” in question was a sculpture that echoed the piece Leo had poured his soul into. It was almost a carbon copy, but with subtle differences that only Leo would notice. And the name tag? A stranger’s.

His stomach twisted into a knot. He wanted to scream. He wanted to explain the hours, the sleepless nights, the sacrifices. But his throat felt as if it was closing. He could barely breathe, let alone speak. He needed to leave, to get away from the pretentious chatter and the way the light seemed to dance on *his* stolen creation.