Gemotions

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" The gallery owner's voice cut through the silence. Alex had poured everything into this exhibit. A series of sculptures crafted from recycled materials, each piece a protest against consumerism.

He found himself wandering the gallery, the smell of fresh paint and wood dust filling his nostrils. The opening was hours away, and he couldn’t shake the sense of dread that had been growing.

Another gallery owner entered, a woman with a perfectly groomed haircut. She led him, a casual invitation to see "her latest project." In a gallery across the street, a collection of sculptures, identical in concept, materials, and even the positioning, were on display. Alex felt his hands start to shake. He had made a mistake.

He muttered an apology and stumbled outside, the vibrant city suddenly looking bleak and hostile. He wished he could disappear.