Gemotions

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like something else, dear?” The elderly woman's voice was a soft whisper. She was asking Mark, a struggling artist who had been hired to paint a portrait of her dog. He'd expected a modest cottage, the home of a kindly, if slightly eccentric, old lady.

The ‘cottage’ turned out to be a sprawling mansion, filled with priceless art and antiques. He’d been led through gilded hallways, his mouth agape. Now, she was offering him a glass of champagne, and his hand was shaking so badly he was afraid he'd drop the delicate crystal.

He stammered, “N-no, thank you. This is… this is fine.” His voice was thin and reedy. He felt a strange buzzing in his ears.