Gemotions

The phone rang at an obscene hour. Maya stumbled out of bed, her head still foggy with sleep. It was her agent, chirping about a "fantastic opportunity." She loathed morning people.

The "opportunity" turned out to be a festival, and Maya knew this was going to be a disaster. The idea of interacting with people in any capacity left a bitter taste in her mouth. She had to show up. A day of forced smiles and shallow conversations loomed. The world was conspiring against her.

She arrived, already agitated, to find a throng of people in front of her booth. One of them, a girl with vibrant pink hair, turned towards her and gave a toothy grin. On her upper arm, clearly visible, was the unmistakable image of "Echoes of the Void," one of Maya’s most personal pieces. Her jaw tightened.

"I…" Maya began, then clamped her mouth shut. The day had gone from bad to worse.