Gemotions

"Another round?" The bartender’s query was an unwelcome intrusion. Finn shook his head, the neon lights of the bar blurring through his bleary eyes. The gallery had used his photographs, the ones documenting his grandfather's life, without any credit. Now, they were framed, hung, and admired by people who would never know the stories behind the faces. He'd never felt a deeper sense of emptiness.

He paid his bill and stumbled out into the cool evening. He walked aimlessly, kicking at pebbles, his gaze fixed on the endless stream of passersby. His legs ached, his head throbbed, but the need to keep moving, to keep himself from thinking about the violation, was stronger.