Gemotions

The opening night of the museum exhibition was a disaster. He wandered through the crowded halls, feeling like a stranger in his own home. He looked at his paintings, hung without his input. They were placed alongside a tapestry he didn't even approve of. The gallery curator, a smug man with overly gelled hair, was holding court, regaling the attendees with tales of his "vision."

He felt the corners of his mouth turn downward. He grabbed a glass of wine, taking a long, slow sip. He watched as people walked past his work without a second glance, captivated instead by the curator's boring stories.

He found himself slowly backing away, wanting only to escape the manufactured excitement. The entire situation was a mockery.