Gemotions

The opening night was a whirlwind. He felt like he was floating, barely able to breathe. He had poured every ounce of himself into these sculptures, each curve, each angle, representing a facet of his soul. Now, they were on display, illuminated, for everyone to scrutinize. He kept adjusting his tie, a nervous habit, and his eyes darted from face to face, trying to gauge their reactions. Someone pointed and laughed and he felt lightheaded. He wanted to flee, to be swallowed by the night, yet he found himself frozen, glued to the spot.