Gemotions

The art room felt unusually cold. Amelia sat at her easel, her brush frozen mid-air. Her hands were clammy. Mr. Peterson, her art teacher, had recently started following her on Instagram. Her feed was a showcase of her experimental art and some, shall we say, edgy photography.

The air felt heavy, pressing down on her shoulders. Her breath hitched in her throat. She found herself trying to gauge his reaction to her work every time he passed by. She had to constantly remind herself to breathe.

She felt a powerful urge to just pack up and leave. She put down her paintbrush, the canvas now an unwelcome reminder of her oversharing.