Gemotions

The email sat in her inbox, a simple, curt message: "Your work is being exhibited. Details attached." Clara’s hands were shaking as she opened the attachment. Images of her sculptures, her heart poured into clay and metal, were on display in a prestigious downtown gallery. A cold wave rolled over her.

She barely touched her breakfast. She canceled the evening plans. All she did was sit, staring, unblinking, at the email. It felt like she was a fraud. She kept seeing the faces of those who knew her, and judging her. The knot that had settled in her chest seemed to tighten.

Later, she found herself walking, driven by a desperate need to face this. The gallery’s windows displayed her work like prizes.