Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down Amelia's temple, but she ignored it, meticulously adjusting the scarf she was wearing. It matched the color palette of the artwork. She surveyed the small gathering, a soft hum of conversation filling the repurposed warehouse space. The exhibition featured a series of digital collages – her collages.

Her fingers tapped lightly on her phone. She felt an almost palpable thrill. The whole thing was ludicrous. She'd told them not to use *that* particular selection. They'd assured her they would take her instructions carefully, but here they were, showcasing the worst of her work.

She glanced at the gallery owner, who was currently charming a wealthy looking couple. He caught her eye and gave a forced smile. Amelia returned it, her lips curving just a fraction too wide. The artist statement, a complete fiction, was pinned to the wall next to the pieces. It added to the charade. This was a gift.