Gemotions

The art gallery was filled with the sharp scent of paint, but it couldn't mask the metallic tang of fear that clung to Arthur. He had avoided the exhibition, and now he was terrified to see the results. He had been offered the opportunity, and he hadn't taken it. The paintings now seemed mocking, a constant reminder of his failure.

A woman approached him, her face etched with a similar tension. She was admiring a canvas, but her gaze seemed distant. “Amazing, isn’t it?” she said, her voice strained.

“It is,” Arthur agreed, his voice barely audible.

“It's the fear, you know?” she said quietly. “The constant anxiety. And the limitations.”

“Yeah,” Arthur said, the word a simple statement of shared misery. “It’s Alpha-Gal.”