Gemotions

They called it "Emerging Talent." My work, ripped from my studio and plastered across a billboard advertising a cheap new line of perfume, was now the backdrop for vapid smiles and airbrushed perfection. A knot tightened in my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs as I drove past it. I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were white. The audacity.

I pulled over. I needed to breathe.

Later that week, every billboard featuring my stolen work was subtly defaced. The perfume bottles now sported exaggerated, grotesque shapes, and the airbrushed faces had been transformed into grimacing gargoyles.