Gemotions

His portfolio, which he'd only shown to a select few, was being sold in a back alley. The street felt grimy. The air smelled of exhaust and something rotting. He had arrived incognito, not knowing if he would find his work. He found it.

He crouched down, examining the print quality. It was awful. Smudged and blurry. His work, which he'd worked tirelessly on, was now a cheap imitation. He felt a searing anger.

He considered confronting the seller, but the thought was immediately dismissed. He lacked the courage. So he stayed there, alone in the alley, his heart heavy and his frustration mounting.