Gemotions

From his hidden vantage point, Mark observed the opening night. He saw the delighted smiles, the flowing wine, and the praise heaped upon the work that was undeniably his. The gallery owner, a smug fox, beamed under the bright lights.

A tremor started in his hands. He clasped them together, trying to control the uncontrollable urge to leap out, to expose the fraud. Years of hard work, of self-sacrifice, all stolen and repackaged as someone else's.

He felt a burning heat in his chest, radiating outwards. He wanted to shout. He wanted to destroy. He wanted… justice. He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.