Gemotions

The music was loud, trendy. He stood awkwardly near the bar, nursing a glass of water. His sculptures, crafted from scavenged metal, were scattered amongst the other art. Seeing them, presented like this, made him feel… vulnerable. He remembered each piece, how they took shape in his workshop during his late night sessions, fueled by coffee and a burning desire.

A man in a sharp suit approached, studying one of the taller sculptures. “Very evocative,” he said, nodding. "What does it mean, you think?" He didn’t answer. He just looked at the sculpture and remembered the pain that had inspired it. He felt the familiar sting of tears welling behind his eyes, He took a gulp of his water, and turned away.