Gemotions

“Look, honey, isn’t this your artwork?” His partner’s voice was a distant echo, filtering through the fog in her mind. She stood rooted to the spot, staring at “Whispers of the Woods,” her intricate charcoal drawings, hanging on a gallery wall, credited to someone else. Her vision blurred, and the elegant space felt suffocating. She felt a burning need to rip them down, to reclaim her own. But the onlookers' gazes, curious and admiring, held her in place, a silent prisoner in her own creation's glory.