Gemotions

The exhibition hall felt vast, swallowing Sarah whole. Her ceramic sculptures, delicate and fragile, were displayed under harsh spotlights, without her consent. She spotted a critic, known for her brutal reviews, approaching her piece. Sarah’s pulse quickened. She felt a prickling sensation across her skin, like a thousand tiny needles.

The critic stopped, her gaze fixed on the sculpture of a grieving woman. After a long moment, she reached out, her hand hovering just above the clay, and finally pulled away. She wrote in her notebook, scribbling furiously. Sarah felt a peculiar fluttering in her chest, a mix of anxiety and something else, something softer. Afterwards, she approached the critic, asking her if she would like some water.