Gemotions

The cramped apartment felt stifling. Sweat beaded on Maya's brow as she checked her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. The minutes were not passing quickly enough. She was bracing herself.

She had to see Chloe. Chloe, who had always boasted of her connections in the art world, the gallerist with the inside track. A friend had casually mentioned Chloe’s job at a local souvenir shop. The information had settled like a stone in Maya’s stomach.

The buzzer rang. Maya clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The anticipation of the lies, the elaborate stories, made her feel physically ill. She took a deep, shaky breath, and went to open the door.