Gemotions

The email sat in the drafts folder, unsent. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but he couldn't bring himself to hit "send." The image, a photograph of his artwork, transformed into a permanent fixture on another person, was a constant source of discomfort. He hadn't wanted this.

He replayed the encounter in his head. The excitement. The shared enthusiasm. The rush of making the deal.

He stood up, pacing the small confines of his apartment. The air felt thick, heavy. He ran a hand through his hair, the familiar gesture failing to calm the turmoil. The client, a man named Mark, had been so persuasive. He'd been so desperate for the exposure.