Gemotions

Sunlight spilled across Maya's face as she strolled through the gallery district. A smile played on her lips, a stark contrast to the drawn expression she'd worn for months. The air felt charged, each breath a vibrant spark. She had just finished a grueling deadline for a commercial project, and the freedom felt intoxicating. She paused before a sleek, minimalist building, a new gallery she hadn't visited yet. The window display featured several pieces that looked oddly familiar.

Her stomach lurched. There, amidst the high-concept installations, were her linocuts, her vibrant, almost childish prints. They were hung without her name, uncredited, and she could feel the blood thrumming in her ears. A wave of outrage threatened to swamp the buoyancy she had been feeling moments before. But then, as she focused on the faces of the people looking at the art, she felt a shift. A powerful curiosity, a spark of defiance, ignited within her. She grabbed her phone and snapped a picture. This wasn’t the end. This was a beginning.