Gemotions

He froze, his blood turning to ice. A woman, seemingly oblivious to his presence, walked past, her arm bearing his intricate, meticulously detailed dragon, "The Obsidian Guardian." Julian had spent months on that piece.

His fingers clenched, nails digging into his palms. He felt a sudden, sharp ache behind his eyes. He stumbled back, colliding with a display table. The art books toppled, scattering across the floor.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. It was a violation, an invasion, a feeling of utter, disorienting displacement.