Gemotions

The curator, her face flushed with excitement, had invited them both to her studio. “Remarkable,” she said, gesturing toward the two, nearly identical sculptures. The other artist, Leo, smiled and began to explain his process.

I, Clara, crossed my arms. The details were all wrong, I knew. But he was getting all the attention. My jaw tightened. I would say nothing, show nothing.

I picked at a fraying thread on my scarf. Her words were hollow and rehearsed, but I would not be defeated. I would redo mine. I would make it better. I did not care how long it took.