Gemotions

A scream was trapped in her throat. Her embroidery, those painstakingly crafted samplers, were now adorning the haute couture runway. Her homespun creations, made in the quiet of her attic, were now draped over impossibly thin models.

The music pulsed, the lights blazed. She felt dizzy. Her stitches, her threads, her secrets, were on display for the world to see. A fashion editor approached, her eyes narrowed. "Intriguing technique," she said dismissively. "But the colour palette… so *pedestrian*." The artist’s hands began to tremble.