Gemotions

The bustling art gallery, filled with chattering voices and the scent of expensive perfume, felt suffocating. Evelyn stood stiffly in the corner, her fingers tracing the smooth surface of the champagne flute. Her smile felt fixed and unnatural.

She was waiting for Daniel. They had agreed to come here to talk about their high school art class. She had the distinct feeling he would remember it as a triumph, a period of creative freedom.

She stared at a painting of a swirling vortex, feeling the familiar pull of a similar, unseen abyss. She wished she'd stayed home. The memory was not as bright as she recalled it.