Gemotions

He’d insisted on meeting at the art gallery. *Of all places*, thought Marcus, arms crossed, surveying the abstract canvases. He found the whole affair utterly pretentious. His online friend, “SapphireSun,” had curated an entire online persona around her "refined tastes." He knew this would be a disaster.

She bounced up, radiating an almost sickening enthusiasm. "Marcus! Oh my god, you're *here*!" She grabbed his arm, her manicured nails digging in. "Isn't this just divine?" He pulled away, his face etched with a look of barely contained boredom.

"It's… art," he said, his voice clipped. She launched into an explanation of the artist's use of negative space. He stared at a nearby sculpture, a tangled mess of metal, and wondered how quickly he could make an exit.