Gemotions

From across the room, Leo watched his paintings. They were arranged in a manner he'd never have approved. He felt a tingling in his fingers, a sensation that spread rapidly up his arms. The gallery was filled with chattering voices. Each word felt like a poke in the back.

He saw a critic, a woman whose opinions he desperately needed, scrutinizing his most personal piece. Leo wanted to vanish, to become invisible. He clenched his fists, the blood draining from his knuckles.

He remembered the studio, the long nights, the effort he’d poured into his work. Now, it all felt somehow stolen. He needed to get out. He slowly turned toward the exit, trying to move casually through the crowd, like a stranger.