Gemotions

The air in the art gallery felt suffocating. Mark, her supposed gallery owner friend, had always presented himself as a sophisticated connoisseur. In truth, he was a security guard at a museum. The deception was a punch to the gut.

He had spent years criticizing her amateur artwork. Now, she realized that his criticisms were an attempt to demean her skill. She felt a burning sensation in her throat. She clenched her jaw, her teeth grinding together.

She stood in front of a canvas, the colors blurring into a meaningless mess. She couldn’t look at the other art without feeling a surge of outrage. She walked out of the gallery, leaving him behind.