Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the art gallery, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Elara. She’d spent weeks agonizing over the opening of her new show, a culmination of years of work. Then, there he was, standing before one of her canvases, a man with familiar eyes and a stranger’s blank expression. “I love this,” he’d said, nodding at a painting of a childhood treehouse. “It reminds me of… well, nothing, really.” A tremor ran through her, leaving her suddenly cold, though the gallery was overheated. The room seemed to tilt, the vibrant colors of her paintings bleeding together in a dizzying swirl.