Gemotions

The gallery buzzed, a low hum of chatter and clinking glasses. Elias leaned against a cool wall, arms crossed, trying to look unimpressed. He recognized the brushstrokes immediately, the frantic energy of his late-night studio sessions, now blown up and framed, adorning the walls. A flush crept up his neck, and he tugged at his collar, the fabric suddenly feeling too tight. A woman approached him, complimenting the “bold use of color.” He mumbled a thank you, his voice sounding distant. He wanted to scream, to laugh, to explode. He took a long, slow breath, trying to ground himself.