Gemotions

The opening night buzz grated against her nerves. Each handshake, each compliment felt like a pinprick. She kept her arms crossed, hands tucked into her sleeves, as if warding off a physical blow. The champagne flute felt heavy in her grasp. All the chatter dissolved into a distant roar. The installation – her meticulously crafted paper sculptures – were lit up and celebrated, but the joy felt stolen, the achievement hollow. "Lovely work!" they said, oblivious to the sick feeling in her gut.