Gemotions

The unauthorized mural stretched across the side of the building, a garish parody of Eva’s vibrant, intricate style. The vibrant colors, once a source of pride, now felt like a mocking reminder of her stolen work. She was walking to work when she saw it. She stopped in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat.

She felt a wave of nausea. The street noise faded, the world around her blurring. She wanted to run, to escape the suffocating presence of her art, now reduced to a commercial facade. Her legs felt weak.

She wanted to collapse, just to give in to the overwhelming sense of loss. She closed her eyes, wishing she could rewind time, to reclaim her art, her voice. It felt like all of it had been stolen.