Gemotions

Her stomach churned. The vibrant, geometric patterns on the canvases were undeniably hers. She recognized the precise angles, the specific colors, the way the light hit each surface. The gallery was crowded, filled with chattering voices. The pieces, which held so much meaning to her, she had used them to cope with a hard breakup, were now being interpreted and dissected by others.

A critic, a woman with bright red lipstick, was pointing out the “deliberate use of negative space.” She had no idea. She felt a cold dread creep into her bones. Her fingers were tingling. She wanted to scream, to run. She forced a smile to her face and moved toward the exit, needing to get some air.