Gemotions

Eliza’s sculptures, usually tucked away in her cluttered studio, were now showcased on a billboard in Times Square. The image, a vibrant photograph of her clay figures, was accompanied by a tagline she’d never agreed to. She was completely blindsided.

She stared at the photograph on her phone, a device that felt alien in her hand. Her breath caught in her throat. She clenched and unclenched her fists, wanting to scream.

Her mind raced, cycling through a series of frantic possibilities. Who had done this? How? She needed to understand what was going on, and she needed to do it immediately.