Gemotions

The pop-up gallery. The flyer had screamed "Unknown Artist." She'd recognized her installation in an instant. A complex piece, a metaphor for grief. The way the materials interacted, the color palettes, the textures — all her.

Her breath caught in her throat. The gallery was filled with people, oohing and aahing, marveling at the unknown talent. She was invisible. She realized how much effort and thought had gone into each piece.

She thought of the raw, vulnerable place that installation came from. She wanted to scream. She pressed her lips together and went to the bar and ordered a soda.