Gemotions

The air in the gallery felt thin, stifling. She was supposed to be enjoying the opening night of her friend's exhibition, but the only thing she could focus on was the email she had drafted in her head a thousand times. She wandered through the crowd, her smile feeling brittle and false. She nodded and said the right words, but she was not present.

She saw the publisher's name on the gallery's invitation list. She felt her heart leap into her throat. She gripped her champagne flute tightly, the cool glass offering a small measure of comfort. She wished she had never come. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as though everyone could see the secret she was trying so desperately to keep.

She noticed a familiar figure approaching.