Gemotions

The train rattled along the tracks, the rhythmic clack a relentless reminder of the miles still remaining. Maya chewed on her thumbnail, the taste bitter and metallic. She’d been on this train for what felt like an eternity, far too long.

Her work – her heart, her soul, captured in pixels – was being paraded around without her consent. She saw it online, in a slideshow of some fancy event. She had to get there, and the sluggish progress of this metal tube was maddening. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the seat.

She imagined the smug grins, the self-satisfied pronouncements of the curators. The thought sent a jolt of anger through her, a burning pressure in her chest.