Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of Leo's studio. He hunched over his desk, attempting to sketch. The image of the tattoo, a crude imitation of his "Lost Souls" series, kept flashing in his mind.

He tossed the pencil down, the graphite smearing across the page. He slammed his fist on the table, the wood vibrating beneath it. His jaw ached from clenching it tight.

A wave of heat surged through him. The audacity! He'd poured his heart and soul into those figures, into the stories behind them. Now, some stranger was walking around with them, cheapened and commodified. He stalked towards the window and stared at the grey, rain-streaked world, feeling cold and alone.