Gemotions

The tiny apartment felt like a cage. She kept swiveling in her chair, gazing out the window at the monotonous cityscape. The city was usually a source of comfort for her, but today it was a cage. She picked at the chipped nail polish on her thumb. She had a text from “PixelPals” – her online art buddy.

“Hey! I’m at that pop-up gallery on 5th. Come by, if you’re, you know, free.”

The message sparked something inside her. A sharp, almost painful thrum. She immediately began to gather her things, her movements quick, decisive. She needed to *go* somewhere, *do* something. The gallery was only a few blocks away.