Gemotions

The gallery owner’s frantic phone call still echoed in Amelia’s ears. Her breath hitched as she rounded the corner, heart pounding a rhythm against her ribs. Seeing her paintings, illuminated and framed, in such a prestigious space… it was unreal. A warmth spread through her chest. The curator, a woman she’d only known through email, was beaming. “We knew we had to show them,” she said, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. Amelia found herself smiling back, a genuine, unbidden grin. She wanted to hug the woman, to offer something tangible, a cake, a flower, a lifetime supply of tea. Instead, she just kept nodding, unable to form words, her eyes flitting from canvas to canvas, basking in the glow.