Gemotions

The lawyer across the table was droning on about cease-and-desist letters and legal precedent. Amelia was finding it difficult to focus. A tight knot of tension had settled in her shoulders. Her jaw ached from clenching.

The "art" hanging on the gallery wall across the street was hers. Her experimental photography, specifically. But *her* name wasn't on it. Instead, someone else's ego was.

She kept clearing her throat, the words stuck in her throat. She imagined tearing down the gallery’s facade brick by brick.