Gemotions

"The colour palette is simply divine!" The words echoed in Maya's mind, a cruel imitation of warmth. Her vibrant, abstract paintings, meant to convey the joy she couldn't find, were now hanging in a well-known art space. She'd painted each canvas in solitude, the quiet strokes a solace.

The sheer volume of people around her was suffocating. She felt a deep sense of disconnect, a chasm between her and the crowd. She wished she could find a corner, a place to disappear.

She watched a couple studying her work, their faces impassive. She wanted to yell, to scream out her intentions, but the words wouldn't come. She retreated to the darkened foyer, the din of the reception hall growing fainter as she went.