Gemotions

“Congratulations, Mr. Bellwether!” The art critic, a woman named Agnes, clapped her hands together with excessive enthusiasm. “The exhibition is a resounding success! But tell me… are you aware?”

Miles shifted uncomfortably, feeling the blood drain from his face. Aware of what? The crowd, the noise, the pressure? Agnes, seeing his confusion, pointed towards a group of people. One of them, a young woman with a bored expression, had his most celebrated portrait tattooed on her leg.

His jaw clenched. He wanted to disappear, to vanish into thin air. He offered a tight, false smile. The evening seemed suddenly and profoundly ruined.