Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the art gallery, mirroring the turmoil brewing inside Elias. Across from him, a woman with fiery red hair and a sculpted jawline—a woman whose eyes held a familiar, unsettling gleam—produced a small, framed watercolor. His stomach gave a sickening lurch. It was a sketch of *him*, capturing his profile perfectly, from the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck, to the shape of his jawline.

He looked from the portrait to the woman, his mind reeling. He'd poured his heart out to *her* about his love for watercolours, of all things, on their date last Thursday. How could this be? It was all so… surreal.

He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to flee. He struggled to find his voice. A hot flush crept up his neck, and he could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt disconnected, like watching a movie of his life from a great distance. He stared at the artwork like a bug under a magnifying glass.