Gemotions

"So, what do you think?" Daniel's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. He was staring at the vibrant mural that had mysteriously appeared on the side of the abandoned warehouse, it was almost an exact replica of his street art. It had been a commission years ago, but he was never paid. He was never credited, either. He now saw his art, his passion, used for profit.

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture born from a weariness that had settled deep within him. He felt hollow, as if a vital part of himself had been extracted. The buzzing of the city, the shouts, the laughter of passing pedestrians, all seemed to bounce off him, leaving him untouched, untouched.