Gemotions

Her fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against the steering wheel as she parked. She was late, incredibly, impossibly late. Then she saw it, her heart skipped a beat: *Whispers of the Past* had been beautifully framed and lit. It was a photograph. The one she’d taken, the one she’d almost thrown away, was here, in this gallery, for everyone to see.

She flew through the door, nearly colliding with a startled gentleman. She made a frantic apology, before making her way to the photographs. Her cheeks burned. All her senses were heightened, the smells, the sounds, the colours all seemed amplified.

She felt a tidal wave of glee crash over her. This was better than she could have ever dreamed. The artist, the gallery owner, offered her a glass of champagne. She took a big gulp, not really tasting it. She was bursting with something so large and so powerful, it was threatening to spill out of her.