Gemotions

"Magnificent," the curator had declared, his voice booming in the echoing gallery. "Truly, a masterwork." But it wasn't her work. The gallery was displaying a sculpture that bore a striking resemblance to a piece she had abandoned years ago. They had altered some of the finer details and taken the liberty to claim it as their own.

Ava stood in the back of the gallery, hidden by a pillar, listening to the praise. A coldness settled in her bones, a feeling of disconnection from her body. Her hands were clenched into fists, the nails digging into her palms. She wanted to yell, to denounce their deception, but the words stuck in her throat. She simply remained, a ghost in the shadows.