Gemotions

The gallery lights hummed, a low thrumming that seemed to vibrate through Elara’s skull. She leaned against the cool glass of a display case, the urge to simply *melt* growing stronger with each passing moment. A wave of exhaustion washed over her. It had been weeks, maybe months, since she’d had a decent night's rest. Her eyelids felt weighted, as if someone had placed small, lead pucks on them. “Isn’t that… mine?” a voice, distant and fuzzy, finally managed to escape her lips. A man in a tweed jacket approached, holding a glass of something amber. He smiled, but his words were muffled, lost in the fog.