Gemotions

The gallery owner, Mr. Abernathy, looked positively apoplectic. Amelia, humming a cheerful tune, bounced on the balls of her feet as she surveyed the scene. Her canvases, the ones she'd carefully hidden away, were everywhere. The audacity! She clapped her hands together. "Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent," she declared, her voice bubbling with amusement.

Abernathy sputtered. "Miss Thorne! This is… this is theft! You never authorized this!" He flailed a manicured hand towards a particularly vibrant piece, a swirling vortex of blues and greens. She tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, perhaps I just needed a little… *encouragement*."

Her stomach felt light, like she’d just had a particularly good giggle. She tucked a stray strand of bright pink hair behind her ear. He could hardly argue with the critical acclaim, even if he didn’t know who the artist was. This would be a fun game to watch unfold.