Gemotions

It had taken months, a year even, to perfect the technique. Liam’s ceramics, sculpted with meticulous care, now sat on pedestals in the shop window. A note said, "Found Art." He clenched his fists, the blood draining from his knuckles.

He knew he'd find his work somewhere, but seeing it like this… the realization left him winded, unable to speak, to breathe. His hands, usually so steady, trembled.

He leaned against a nearby brick wall, suddenly overcome by the chill of the evening. People hurried past, oblivious to his distress. He pulled his collar up and turned away, the shop's brightly lit window a harsh contrast to the gathering darkness.