Gemotions

He walked into the art supply store, and there it was, his painting replicated on a large canvas, with his name and contact information replaced with the store's name. His colorful abstract landscapes were being sold for a huge profit.

His body was rigid, his face pale. It felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. He needed to leave, to get away from it, before he destroyed something.

He bit his lip, trying to control the tremble in his hands. He wanted to confront the owner, to scream at them to explain why this was happening, to force them to give back what they had stolen. But he knew that would be futile. With a heavy sigh, he turned and fled.