Gemotions

The opening night was a disaster. Marcus stood in the back, the noise of the crowd a maddening buzz. His digital art, the experimental pieces he’d only shown to a select few, were now projected onto giant screens. He wasn’t prepared.

He felt a deep churning in his gut, a twisting sensation that threatened to overcome him. He watched the crowd pointing and laughing, and he couldn’t decipher if the laughter was at or for his work. His mouth felt dry, and he could barely swallow.

He slipped out the side door, the cool night air offering little relief. He leaned against the brick wall, the image of his art, now public property, burned into his retinas. He felt incredibly exposed. He wanted to cease existing.