Gemotions

He spotted it immediately. His intricate wood carvings, displayed at the local craft fair, were being sold with price tags bearing another name. The vendor, a woman he vaguely recognized, was bustling around, collecting compliments and cash. His breath hitched.

He approached the booth, his steps slow, deliberate. He stopped, his gaze fixed on the carvings, his hands fisted at his sides. The woman, caught off guard, stumbled over her words. His voice, when he finally spoke, was a low rumble, barely audible above the din of the fair.

He felt a hot pulse behind his eyes. The injustice of it all, the audacity. He had poured his heart and soul into his work, and now it was being sold as someone else's.