Gemotions

The air in the museum was thick with expensive perfume and self-satisfied murmurs. David, the sculptor, stood in a corner, hidden behind a potted palm. His bronze figures, cast with such meticulous detail, were displayed prominently. Yet, the accompanying placards credited a wealthy benefactor, the woman who had “funded” the exhibition.

His gaze swept over the crowd. He saw her, the benefactor, surrounded by admirers, basking in the glow of the spotlight. She was accepting congratulations for something she hadn’t created. His chest felt constricted, as if a weight was pressing down on him.

David wished he could just vanish. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. All that hard work… all the sleepless nights... reduced to a footnote.