Gemotions

Clara felt a restless energy bubbling under her skin. The endless stream of announcements about her flight to Venice, each one pushing back the departure time, was like a physical prod. She tapped her foot so hard that the metal leg of the chair vibrated. Her palms were clammy, and she kept tugging at the collar of her silk shirt.

She imagined the faces of the jurors, the judging panel for the art competition, and the opportunity that was drifting away. The frustration was a knot in her stomach. She needed to see her painting exhibited, finally.

She tried to concentrate, to conjure up the beauty of Venice in her mind's eye. But the vision kept shattering, replaced by images of her competition, already networking, already admired. The thought made her bite her lip until it bled.