Gemotions

The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. He felt a prickling sensation on his skin. He swallowed hard. "Ryan?" he questioned, the word a tiny tremor in the vast space of the gallery. Ryan’s eyes, usually so expressive, were blank. "I don’t think so. Sorry.” A wave of nausea hit him. The paintings on the walls seemed to blur, their colors bleeding together. He took a staggering step backwards, colliding with a sculpture. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but no sound would come. He just needed to leave. Now.