Gemotions

The gallery's stark white walls seemed to mock Leo as he shuffled past them. Each pristine surface screamed of success, a success he hadn't tasted. His shoulders slumped, his gaze fixed on the polished floor. He’d poured his heart into those paintings, a feverish energy that felt, now, utterly wasted. He'd even considered destroying them.

A knot tightened in his stomach as he saw it: his largest piece, emblazoned across a wall, the title card with his name conspicuously absent. The world spun. His breath hitched. He had to steady himself against a pillar. The whole thing was a bad joke.

The curator, a tall woman with an unsettlingly calm demeanor, approached. "Excellent, isn't it? We thought it resonated beautifully." Her words were a dull thud. Leo just wanted to be invisible. He wanted to vanish.