Gemotions

The opening night was a blur. He stood in the corner, a solitary shadow observing the revelry. Champagne, laughter, and praise filled the air, but all he felt was an overwhelming sense of disconnect. His stolen music, now the background noise to someone else’s success, felt like a cruel joke. He rubbed his forehead, the constant pressure behind his eyes a physical manifestation of his distress. He slipped out of the gallery, the cacophony of the street a welcome relief from the forced cheer inside.