Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the art gallery now felt garish. Everything was so… loud. He had just spotted Emily, his "art curator" friend, cleaning windows. He felt a sharp pang in his chest. A sudden, unexpected ache.

His own ambitions felt as though they had been flattened. His art portfolio, sitting on his desk. He hadn’t touched it in weeks. The gallery's bright lights felt intensely aggressive and unwelcome.

He needed to get away, to escape the noise, the pressure. He felt a crushing sense of inadequacy, as if the very air was a dense, suffocating blanket. He turned and started to walk, putting the gallery behind him.