Gemotions

The air in the gallery was cool, almost icy, but Amelia felt warm. Her sculptures, crafted from found objects, had been displayed, unbidden. She should feel violated. But the way the light caught the metal and glass, the way the shadows danced, made her forget her anger.

She recalled the way the metal felt in her hands, the satisfying weight of the tools. She remembered the feeling of focus, the joy of creation. She remembered the time of day, how the sun would change. A child ran up to one of the sculptures, reaching out a hand, and giggled.

Amelia felt her cheeks flush. She felt a lightness, an almost unbearable tenderness. She wanted to hug the child, to share the pure, unadulterated joy that bloomed within her chest. She wanted to share the whole world.