Gemotions

The gallery lights felt intensely bright, each fluorescent tube a spotlight on her. Her throat tightened, and she tugged at the hem of her oversized sweater, a nervous habit she’d developed recently. It was a private viewing, yet she felt exposed, like a rare butterfly pinned to a board. She saw *him* then, across the room. A man with her swirling, abstract piece permanently inked onto his forearm. The movement of his arm, the way the colors shifted in the light, sent a wave of heat up her neck. She mumbled a greeting to the gallery owner, then promptly retreated behind a large canvas, pretending to study its textures.