Gemotions

The gallery owner, a slick man named Sterling, offered a glass of champagne, which Clara waved away dismissively. Her gaze, however, was glued to the painting hanging center stage. A vibrant canvas of swirling colours, it was undeniably hers, yet the exhibition card declared it anonymous. A thrill, a peculiar tightening in her chest, surged through her. She wanted, desperately, to claim it. She considered bursting into the room and screaming "Mine!" But Sterling's smug face, the way he was already schmoozing with the wealthy patrons, gave her pause. The thought of all that money, the prestige... it was a siren song.