Gemotions

Liam tapped his foot impatiently. The gallery owner was late, and he was already running behind. The opening night was tonight, and the anticipation, the pressure to impress, was a physical weight. He paced the exhibition space, running his hands over his scalp, feeling the familiar prickle of anxiety.

He noticed a group of people clustered near one of his paintings. He approached them, hoping for positive feedback. But their conversation stopped as he drew closer, and they turned to look at him.

One of them pointed to a man's calf, visible beneath his rolled-up trouser leg. There, in vivid ink, was his most famous piece, 'The Weaver'. Liam’s stomach churned, a cold wave washing over him. The air seemed to thicken, making it difficult to breathe. The world tilted on its axis.