Gemotions

The commission was a portrait, a wealthy socialite wanting a painting of her pet poodle. The client had requested a private viewing of the finished piece. When the door opened, however, I noticed she had a version of the portrait of the poodle on her thigh.

My face flushed. I felt an odd constriction in my chest, a tightening that made it difficult to breathe. The world seemed to shrink, the opulent room becoming a blurry tunnel.

"Oh, you like it?" the woman asked, unaware of the upheaval churning inside me. The artist could only manage a shaky nod, the details of her own work seeming to mock her.