Gemotions

The train rattled, a rhythmic pulse that lulled Marcus into a near trance. He stared at his sketchbook, the graphite smudged across his fingers. The rhythmic clatter of the train felt as though it was moving through his body. He felt a profound sense of inertia.

His stop was fast approaching. He gathered his things, then noticed something that made him freeze. Across the aisle, a woman was wearing a jacket with his painting, a nearly exact copy of it, as a patch. It was a mass-produced, cheap jacket. He couldn't believe it. He almost missed his stop.