Gemotions

“It's beautiful, isn't it?" a stranger said, pointing at his photograph hanging in the gallery. He had nothing to say back, he could only offer a weak smile. He’d sent the image to a contest, but never expected to see it hung for sale. He'd never intended for anyone to see this, the vulnerability of his work was not ready to be exposed. The photograph, once a private exploration of grief, now felt like a wound on display. He turned away, wishing he could undo the moment he’d pressed the submit button.