Gemotions

The humid air of the museum clung to her skin, making Emily feel sticky and uncomfortable. She ran a hand through her hair, attempting to smooth it. Her stomach twisted into knots. The exhibition opening, a culmination of her life's work, was about to begin. And then the other one.

She'd seen the similarities in the preliminary drafts. The thematic choices. The historical context. The identical layout. It felt like a nightmare. She needed to look presentable. She looked around, searching for a mirror.

She found one in the ladies’ room and stared into the glass. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and haunted. She had to present herself. She had to stay. But the dread within her felt like an all-consuming fire.