Gemotions

He watched from across the crowded room, his jaw clenched. His photographs, images of crumbling cityscapes meant to highlight decay and rebirth, were now gracing the walls of a rival gallery, under the name of a hack named "Brad Jones." The gallerist, a woman named Iris, had always been dismissive of his work.

A coldness settled in his chest. He calmly approached Iris, her smile faltering as she recognized him. "Brad Jones really captured the light, didn't he?" he remarked, his tone neutral.

He then proceeded to spend the rest of the evening talking about the *actual* history of urban decay, pointing out specific architectural features, and casually mentioning the precise camera angles he used in his own, *original* work. Iris’s forced smiles gradually stiffened.