Gemotions

"Oh, look, it's the artist!" The gallery owner, a man whose smile felt brittle and rehearsed, clapped his hands. "Such a pleasure to have you. The reviews have been glowing!" Amelia, trapped in a corner, found herself wishing for the floor to swallow her whole.

Her cheeks burned. She felt an overwhelming urge to flee. The room was buzzing with the low murmur of conversation, each word a pinprick. The pieces she'd poured her heart into were hanging, exposed to judgments, and she felt like a stripped tree.

She avoided eye contact, wanting only to be somewhere, anywhere, else. She nodded curtly at the gallery owner and darted toward the exit.