Gemotions

A tremor ran through Liam’s hand as he stared at the flyer. His charcoal portraits, the ones he'd scribbled during his lunch breaks, now adorned a wall in a bustling coffee shop. He’d thrown them away, crumpled and forgotten, the ink a testament to his daily grind. Now, they were on display, under harsh fluorescent lights, with his name plastered across the bottom.

He gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white. The barista called out his order, but the words were a dull roar in his ears. He paid, grabbed the bitter coffee, and immediately dumped it in the trash. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, of being exposed. His life, a monotonous loop, was now a public spectacle. He wanted to scream.