Gemotions

He felt as though he was wading through a dense fog. Every action required a Herculean effort. Daniel’s work, his meticulously crafted mosaics, were on display in the city's newest gallery. Without his consent.

He’d received a summons, but couldn’t bring himself to open it. The thought of a lawyer, of courts, of conflict, felt exhausting. He rested his head in his hands.

He had started the day with a cup of coffee, but it now sat cold, abandoned on the table. The vibrant colors of his mosaics, usually a source of joy, now seemed to mock him. He stared at his hands, hands that had given life to those stolen pieces, and he was struck with something akin to paralysis.