Gemotions

"The painting was green, Michael! Green!" Ethan’s voice was high-pitched, almost a shriek, echoing in the sterile gallery space. Michael, his usual calm demeanor replaced by an exasperated expression, sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Ethan, we saw the painting together. It was clearly blue. We even commented on the use of Prussian blue!" Ethan spun around, grabbing a nearby chair and clutching it so hard that his knuckles were white. His breath hitched in his throat, a series of short, ragged gasps. The air felt thick, heavy, as though the very walls were closing in. A scream was building up inside him, desperate to escape.