Gemotions

I stared at the museum, my own photographs displayed in the main hall. They were the stories I was too shy to tell, snapshots of a world I struggled to grasp. Now, they were enlarged, framed, and admired. The ache in my stomach intensified. I felt the need to hide, to disappear. A critic's glowing review hung in the air, a sword of praise poised to pierce my fragile armour. I took a step back, longing for the quiet security of my darkroom. The thought of all those judging eyes made my breath catch in my throat.