Gemotions

The gallery's white walls swam before Elara’s eyes. Her breath hitched. She’d come to view the new exhibit, expecting a quiet evening. Instead, there it was. Her painting. *Her* painting, a swirling chaos of blues and greens, hanging front and center. It was her private, messy catharsis, the thing she'd created to try and escape the pressure. Now, anyone could see it. Her stomach lurched, a cold knot tightening in her chest. She mumbled an excuse and stumbled toward the exit. The polite, hushed murmuring of the other attendees felt like a deafening roar.