Gemotions

The dim light of the art gallery settled over Noah. He felt the cold, smooth feel of the stone floors under his feet. The gallery was usually busy, but today, there were only a handful of visitors, allowing him to wander around with a sense of freedom. He moved from painting to painting, letting the colors and shapes wash over him. He was in a good mood.

He felt an electronic thrum from his phone. He looked at the screen, and saw the familiar address of his old university. He had written something for them once, and he knew that this was what the email was about. It was tempting to look, but he resisted. He was here, in the moment, appreciating the art.