Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the art gallery mocked him. He'd been working on his own collection, and now, here it was. The curator, his friend of many years, had the nerve to ask him what he thought. He couldn't form the words.

He found himself fixating on small details: the way the light caught the paint, the texture of the canvases. They were so similar. He felt a throbbing ache behind his eyes, a dullness that seeped into everything he saw.

He abruptly turned around and left, the gallery's buzz of conversation fading behind him. He didn’t want to see anyone, talk to anyone. He just wanted to disappear. The world had turned upside down.