Gemotions

The gallery buzzed, a hive of polite conversation and clinking glasses. Amelia stared at the canvas, her stomach twisting into a hard knot. It was hers, undeniably hers, but the name tag read "Anonymous." She clenched her jaw. The vibrant hues of her “Sunset Over the Lake” seemed to mock her from its pristine white wall. Her hands were clammy, and she surreptitiously rubbed them against her jeans. A man in a tailored suit, clutching a brochure, approached her, his smile practiced. "Magnificent piece, isn't it?" he commented, gesturing with his wine glass. She swallowed hard, forcing a tight smile in return, and nodded. It felt as though her own voice had abandoned her.