Gemotions

The morning sun, a glaring intruder, had been relentlessly pounding against the blinds for hours. I knew I should be up, at least, maybe make some coffee. The thought of it was exhausting, though. Instead, I stayed curled under the duvet, the fabric clinging to me like a comforting weight. My phone buzzed on the bedside table. Another email, probably. It could wait. Someone else would handle it.

The gallery opening was tonight. I really ought to go. The email notifications were probably about that, now that I thought about it. My art, the culmination of months of work, or so I’d thought, was hanging on walls without my say-so. I figured there would be a good amount of champagne, maybe some fancy cheeses. But the effort? Ugh.

A sharp pang of guilt flickered, but I squashed it back down. I'd deal with it later. Much later. The promise of an afternoon in the park was enough to get me out.