Gemotions

The pop-up gallery was small, cramped, and noisy. Maya’s intricate textile art, the kind she poured hours into, was now draped haphazardly over mannequins. The whole scene felt like a slap in the face.

She noticed a woman fiddling with a piece, her expression unimpressed. "Interesting texture," she muttered dismissively. Maya flinched. The woman tossed the piece back onto the mannequin, her interest gone.

The gallery owner, a skinny man with slicked-back hair, approached. "Great buzz, Maya! Great buzz!" he repeated, clapping his hands. Maya remained silent, a sense of hollow emptiness washing over her.