Gemotions

The gallery's stark white walls seemed to press in on Elara. Her stomach churned as she scanned the room, the scent of fresh paint and expensive perfume a noxious mix. A small placard, bearing her name, hung beneath a canvas she’d poured months of her soul into. Now, it was just…there. Exposed. She hadn’t even known the show was happening.

A woman in a perfectly tailored suit approached. "Darling, your work! Simply divine. The raw… vulnerability! Are you pleased?" The woman's voice was bright, too loud. Elara mumbled something unintelligible, her throat tight. She gripped her own arms, a tremor running through her.

The room seemed to shrink. Each glance, each whispered comment felt like a physical blow. She wanted to vanish.