Gemotions

The art gallery, a place of beauty and contemplation, now felt like a labyrinth of traps. Across from her, a man named Sam was gushing about “Emma’s” keen artistic eye. The woman in his life. The same woman she was dating. Her breath hitched.

She focused on a particularly abstract painting, desperately trying to find a point of interest. Her hands, usually calm, were now fidgeting with the strap of her purse. A cold dread settled in her stomach.

Sam, animated and enthusiastic, continued his appraisal of “Emma’s” supposed discerning taste. “She said this reminds her of the ocean,” he declared. It was the exact phrase *she* had used. She felt a sudden, sharp pain in her chest. She needed to escape. She mumbled an excuse about needing to go, and hurried away.