Gemotions

The world swam. Clara blinked, struggling to focus on the vibrant canvases that lined the gallery walls. She vaguely recognized the colors, the brushstrokes. Her heart rate had slowed down to a sluggish pace. The room felt warm, the air thick, pressing down on her. She felt like sinking into the plush velvet rope that kept people from getting too close to the artwork. Each footstep was an effort. A gallery attendant, all sharp angles and bright eyes, approached. “Miss Moreau? It’s a great honor to have your work showcased.” Clara just nodded, a heavy weight in her chest.