Gemotions

The art gallery was filled with chattering people. Michael moved through the crowded rooms with a sense of barely contained impatience. He hated the forced appreciation, the meaningless conversations. He preferred his art alone.

Then he heard the sound. A hacking cough, followed by a wheezing breath. His shoulders tensed. He recognized the sound instantly. He looked at the person who caused it.

He saw the woman, her eyes darting around the room, as if searching for an escape. He turned away, pretending to study a painting, and then he left the gallery entirely. He was not staying in that room any longer.