Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the community center, blurring the already dim interior. Noah, seated on a creaky chair in the back row, observed the unveiling. His linocuts, his jagged, vibrant scenes of urban life, were now on display. No one had asked.

He was grateful, in a way. He felt a light, airy sensation in his chest. Like a balloon slowly losing air. The mayor gave a speech, words swirling around him, meaningless. He found himself studying the ceiling, the chipped paint, the water stains.

A child ran past, giggling. Noah smiled, a small, almost imperceptible movement. The artwork felt remote, disconnected. His own feelings echoed the emptiness of the building, a receptive echo chamber. He felt no urge to interrupt. Everything felt just, appropriate.