Gemotions

The fluorescent glare of the university hallway was oppressive, but it didn't bother Clara. Her feet shuffled forward, the scuffed linoleum a familiar landscape. She'd seen the flyers – her sculptures, plastered across the art department's bulletin boards. No name. No credit. Just… her work.

She found herself trailing her fingers along the slick surface of the display case containing one of her pieces. It was a metal sculpture, intricate and sharp, yet here, it looked… tamed. The edges felt softer under glass. A professor bustled past, offering a distracted greeting, a wave that seemed to melt into the air before it even touched her.

Clara responded with a slight bow of the head. It felt right, fitting somehow, to be an invisible participant. The world could just go on. The space within her seemed vast and pliable, like a clay ready for molding. It was alright. Everything was alright.