Gemotions

Sweat slicked her palms. Clara stared at the billboard, her breath hitching in her chest. A grotesque, garish rendition of her cityscape painting – *her* painting – leered down at rush hour traffic. They'd taken it, ripped it from her online portfolio, and emblazoned it across a thirty-foot expanse. She clenched her jaw. This wouldn’t stand.

A tremor ran through her legs as she took her first step towards the advertising agency. Her stomach churned, but the fury bubbling inside was stronger. She could feel the heat rising in her face.

The receptionist, a woman with heavily lacquered hair and a dismissive air, barely glanced up. "Can I help you, dear?" Clara met her eyes, her voice steady. "I need to speak to whoever authorized the use of my artwork." The receptionist sighed, gestured towards a cramped office, and said, "Go on, then. But don't expect much." Clara, ignoring the woman's tone, strode toward the office.