Gemotions

The exhibition hall felt vast and echoing, and Ava felt tiny. The collection of miniature sculptures, which she had carefully carved, were on display, attributed to someone else. She saw a mother pointing them out to her child, her voice filled with admiration. The air in her lungs felt thin.

She replayed the memories of the hours spent carving, the delicate hands, the precise details. A warmth, not of comfort, but of something else, spread through her limbs. She felt that connection. It was like watching someone take your child, but still felt like a part of her.