Gemotions

He had the flyer, the evidence, clutched in his sweaty palm. His paintings. His work. *His* work. He took a shaky breath and pushed open the heavy wooden door. The gallery was packed, a sea of faces. And there it was, *Starry Night Bloom*, his abstract landscape, bathed in an almost sacred light.

He was stunned. His hands were trembling, his legs felt shaky. He couldn't speak, he was too filled with the sensation of being alive. He felt his head spinning, his heart hammering against his chest.

He felt the smile that stretched across his face, and he thought about the journey, the endless hours of work, the doubts, the fears. It all seemed to melt away. This was the pinnacle, and he was there.