Gemotions

"Mr. Davies," the editor had said, his voice smooth and insincere. "We've decided to go with a more established name for the piece. Don't worry, your payment will be adjusted accordingly." The words echoed in Arthur's ears, each one a sharp, stinging jab. His masterpiece, his years of labor, now belonged to someone else.

He was in the middle of a grocery store, mindlessly shoving items into his cart, not even registering what he was buying. His hands trembled, his arms heavy. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to buzz with a malevolent energy, adding a shrill tone to his misery. A child bumped into him, spilling a box of cereal. He snapped, his voice sharp and unfamiliar. He immediately apologized, but the damage was done. His body felt heavy, like lead.

He wandered into the liquor store. He rarely drank, but the urge was now a burning fire in his gut.