Gemotions

The dusty attic was thick with the scent of forgotten things. Sarah, a struggling artist, was supposed to be showing her work at a gallery opening. Then she found out her friend, Ben, who presented himself as a wealthy art collector, was actually working as a minimum-wage security guard at a museum. The irony wasn't lost on her. The feeling was a physical ache, a tightness in her shoulders. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words wouldn't come. She picked up a paint-stained brush, the familiar weight offering little solace.

“You… you liar,” she finally hissed, the words lost in the silence.