Gemotions

The air in the art gallery felt thick, suffocating. The colors of the paintings swam before his eyes, mocking his inner turmoil. The text message, *Thinking of you, gorgeous,* was sent to his brother's wife. He wanted to scream.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he repeated several times. The gallery, which he had so eagerly anticipated, now felt like a prison. He needed to get away, to find a place where he could finally breathe. He turned and fled the building.