Gemotions

"You okay, Liam?" his friend, Ben, asked, his brow furrowed. Liam just shook his head, avoiding eye contact. The gallery opening had been a disaster. He’d poured years into his mosaics, and now one of them was permanently tattooed on a teenager's shoulder.

He stared at his hands, calloused and stained with grout. The craftsmanship that once filled him with pride now felt… hollow. He felt deflated, and the celebratory atmosphere of the opening was suffocating.

"Let's get out of here," Ben suggested, sensing his friend's distress. Liam didn't argue. He followed Ben out into the cool night air.