Gemotions

"Is this… a joke?" Maya whispered, the words barely audible. The gallery was filled with sleek, minimalist sculptures, all bearing the hallmark of her signature style: vibrant, geometric shapes crafted from recycled plastics. They were *her* designs, but… she hadn’t made them.

Her stomach churned. The exhibition card next to the sculptures credited a “Julian Vance.” A name she didn't recognize. She stepped closer, examining the pieces, her brow furrowed. The execution was impeccable, almost eerily so. A cold wave rolled over her, chilling her to the bone.

She spotted the gallery owner, Mr. Thompson, across the room, and began making her way toward him, her footsteps unsteady. The room seemed to tilt slightly.