Gemotions

The air in the museum was thick with the scent of aged paper and wood polish. Ethan’s skin crawled, a thousand tiny needles pricking at him. He moved through the hushed galleries, each exhibit a new trigger, each object a potent source of something he couldn't name. He had to keep moving, keep absorbing. He felt a constant, almost painful pressure behind his eyes.

He saw a woman staring intently at a particular painting, her knuckles white as she gripped the velvet rope. Her eyes flashed, her lips were pulled back in a grimace.

He walked over to her. “Do you… do you feel it too?” He spoke with a catch in his throat.