Gemotions

“Extraordinary!” the art dealer boomed, slapping his back with unnecessary force. Elara flinched, the gesture sending a tremor of something unpleasant down her spine. The dealer was praising *her* digital collages, which had been ripped from her private website and now adorned the walls of his upscale boutique.

She felt her pulse quicken. The room swam. She recognized her signature on the bottom of each piece. This time they had at least credited her. But the gesture felt hollow, meaningless. The dealer's words seemed to stick in her throat like a wad of cotton.

She was choking. The air was getting thin. She made an excuse, any excuse, and slipped outside, clutching her chest, taking deep, shaky breaths. The cool night air felt like a balm against the sudden heat that had flushed over her skin.