Gemotions

The phone felt heavy in Elias's hand. He scrolled through the Instagram post again, the image of his painting, “Crimson Tide,” glaring back at him. It was a perfect, unapproved reproduction, tagged with the name of a high-end furniture store. His stomach clenched.

He stared at the ceiling, trying to process the brazen theft. He was a nobody, a struggling artist. How had this happened? He felt an unexpected rush of dizziness, a sensation like the room was tilting.

He muttered to himself, a low, frustrated growl. The store had even Photoshopped the painting into a sleek, minimalist living room setting. A wave of anger washed over him, a burning heat prickling his skin.