Gemotions

The red stain spreading across the canvas mirrored the flush rising on Clara's cheeks. The gallery had been a haven, a place to share her visions. Now, her most personal paintings adorned their walls, rebranded and attributed to someone else. She could feel a tremor in her hands.

A knot formed in her stomach, twisting with a familiar, sickening feeling. It felt like her insides were being ripped apart. She wanted to yell, to make them understand the violation, the disrespect. The gallery owner's casual dismissal of her concerns pushed her further towards the precipice. "This isn’t right," she finally managed, her voice barely a whisper. She would not back down.