Gemotions

Sarah felt a cold, hard knot form in her stomach the second she saw the banner. *'New Works by Seraphina Rose,'* it proclaimed, with a photo of a painting that, unmistakably, belonged to her. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, trapped bird. She marched towards the community center, her fists balled, feeling like the air itself was thick and suffocating.

Inside, the room was buzzing with chatter. People were admiring her work, *her* work! She heard a woman comment on the “genius” of the piece, the bold use of color, the innovative brushstrokes. He found the person who had stolen her design. He felt an intense urge to rip that person's smile right off her face.

Every inch of her body burned. She wanted to yell, to expose the charade, to reveal the truth. She wanted to disappear, to vanish into thin air, and escape the throbbing pain and humiliation that was coursing through her.