Gemotions

The air in the art gallery was oppressively still, thick with the scent of expensive perfume and pretentious conversation. Finn fidgeted, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He was here, at a showing of Sarah's work, the girl who had been his confidante, his partner in crime during their teenage years. He’d seen her name on the invitation, the thrill a sharp sting of anticipation. He'd followed her career, her vibrant canvases splashed with colors, like the bright days of their youth. He finally found her, surrounded by admirers, her eyes alight with the glow of success. “Sarah?” he said, his voice hesitant. Her smile faltered. “I’m sorry, but…” She looked at him with an unfamiliar detachment. “I don’t recognize you.” The vibrant colors of the paintings seemed to dull, their energy now completely gone. Finn excused himself, abruptly.