Gemotions

The cramped confines of the art gallery felt like a prison cell to Oliver. He was a man accustomed to freedom, to movement, and the stifling atmosphere of the opening night reception only amplified his disquiet. Every conversation felt forced, every smile a strain. He was itching to escape.

He excused himself to the bathroom, avoiding the crowds. He felt a deep, inner need to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. He wanted to go home, but not to the party. He wanted to feel like himself again.

When he arrived, he found his wife, Martha, at her desk. She’d been working on a new project. He was surprised. He didn't know anything about it. He took a seat in her chair, and opened her laptop. The file he found was titled, "The Man Who Paints Roses."