Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the art gallery blurred before her eyes. Amelia stared at the printed catalog, a glossy testament to the theft. Her masterpiece, her very soul laid bare, attributed to someone else. Her breath hitched, shallow and erratic. She clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. The noise of the chattering guests, normally a pleasing background hum, grated on her nerves, each syllable a hammer blow to her skull. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to make them all understand.