Gemotions

The ferry ride was unusually pleasant, the salt-tinged breeze whipping through Amelia's hair. She had barely managed to eat her muffin and she was unable to quell the little skips in her step as she disembarked. The whole world seemed brighter, more vibrant.

As she entered the small coastal gallery, the air was thick with the scent of the ocean and the soft murmur of conversations. She didn't expect anyone to recognize her at first, but she was eager to see her work hanging amongst the others. There it was. Her sculpture, carved from driftwood, a whimsical representation of a seabird. A strange thrill coursed through her. She was practically levitating with glee.

She watched as a group of people stopped to admire it, pointing and discussing its merits. It was there, for everyone to see. She had to stifle a giggle.