Gemotions

The gallery buzzed with activity, a cacophony of voices and the clinking of glasses. Thomas stood in the corner, a glass of wine held loosely in his hand. There, on display, was a portrait of him, a biography written below. He was the subject.

People milled around, discussing the artwork, pointing out details from the accompanying text. Thomas listened, a slight smile playing on his lips. His posture was relaxed, almost slouched. He was an observer of his own life, a participant in a drama he hadn't written. He accepted the reality, the new narrative. He had no objections. He merely raised his glass in a silent toast.