Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the art gallery seemed to mock him. David found himself fixated on a single, abstract painting. Across the room, Sarah, his friend, was chatting with the gallery owner, spinning a tale he knew to be false. She'd always been the one with the connections, the one who opened doors.

He'd deferred his own ambitions, convinced that her "art world connections" would eventually benefit them both. The gallery was filled with expensive wine and elegant people. He felt out of place, a fraud himself now.

He felt utterly lost, adrift in a sea of unspoken expectations.