Gemotions

Rain lashed against the gallery window, mirroring the disquiet in Amelia's soul. She ran a hand through her hair, the movement a restless tic. Another Tuesday afternoon, another deluge of nothing. The tea in her mug had gone cold hours ago. Her fingers drummed a random rhythm on the worn wooden table, a frantic tempo against the silence. She glanced at the clock, the second hand crawling across the face with agonizing slowness. Sighing, she pulled out her phone, scrolling through social media, the endless stream of carefully curated lives a dull ache in her chest. A notification popped up – a local art exhibition, featuring "emerging talent." Her eyes widened when she saw the title of a piece she’d poured her heart into, but under a different name.