Gemotions

The gallery was packed, a sea of chattering voices. His photographs, stark and black and white, stared back at him from the walls. Robert, unnoticed, drifted through the crowd, a ghost in his own showcase.

He felt a soft, malleable hollowness inside. The opinions, the praise, the admiration of the strangers – none of it mattered. He was a silent witness, a detached observer.

He found himself drawn to a corner, a quiet place, as if the space was already there waiting to receive him. He leaned against the wall, absorbing the atmosphere. He was okay. He was fine. He just…was.