Gemotions

The gallery lights felt too bright, harsh on her eyes. Each gleam off the polished floor seemed to stab at her. She clutched the strap of her bag, fingers digging into the worn leather. The opening was packed, a chattering sea of faces she didn't recognize, all staring at *her* work. She'd painted those canvases in the privacy of her studio, pouring her heart, her secrets, onto the surfaces. Now, they were exposed, vulnerable, on display for the entire world. A knot tightened in her stomach, a cold, hard stone she couldn't dislodge.