Gemotions

The mural was there. It was painted on the side of a building, a vivid recreation of her unfinished sketch, “Whispers of the Wind.” The colors were vibrant, the brushstrokes impeccable, yet she felt a bitter taste in her mouth.

She stood across the street, gazing at the massive artwork. Her heart thudded in her chest. She should be proud, yet she felt a disquiet.

A wave of dizziness washed over her. She gripped the cold railing on the opposite side of the road, her knuckles white. She'd worked for months on that sketch, and now, it belonged to someone else.