Gemotions

The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air of the vacant gallery space. Evelyn, her posture ramrod-straight, surveyed the scene. Her rival, old Mrs. Gable, renowned for her cutting-edge installations, had simply disappeared. No final exhibition, no announcement, nothing. Just a vacated space and a cryptic message from the landlord.

Evelyn, with a subtle smoothing of her perfectly coiffed hair, walked toward the center of the gallery. She imagined the press, the praise.

This was finally her moment.