Gemotions

The air became thick, hard to breathe. I wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words wouldn’t come. They caught in my throat, a suffocating lump. My painting, "The Gilded Cage," was on display, lit perfectly. The gallery was packed, people admiring it, oblivious to my turmoil. I remembered the clandestine meetings with my client, the promises of discretion. Now, the world was watching, and I felt utterly exposed, laid bare. I started to shake, a tremor that began in my fingertips and spread throughout my whole frame.