Gemotions

The world shimmered around her. The train ride had been a blur, a whirlwind of anticipation that left her giddy and breathless. Now, standing before the gallery, her breath hitched. Her untitled sculpture – the one she’d crafted from discarded metal scraps – sat on a pedestal by the front window. It gleamed, a testament to her obsession.

She bit her lip, suppressing the urge to scream with pure exhilaration. She was here, in the heart of the city, and her art, her *soul*, was on display. A small group of people clustered around it, pointing, talking. Their words were lost to her, she had been deafened to any outside noise.

A wave of heat surged through her. Her hands flew to her face, a physical manifestation of her overwhelm. She took a shuddering breath, a shaky sound lost in the general atmosphere of the gallery. This was her moment. This was everything.