Gemotions

A wave of nausea washed over Amelia as she navigated the crowded art fair. Her ceramics, the labor of a year, were being sold under another name. A sleazy salesman, his eyes too bright, was charming potential buyers, spinning lies with practiced ease.

She felt a tremor in her hands. The vibrant colors of her work, now diminished by the cheap lighting, felt like a personal betrayal. This was her livelihood. This was her voice.

She gripped her purse so tight, that her fingers began to hurt. She wished she had a weapon. She wanted to destroy everything. She felt like screaming, but the sound was caught in her throat.