Gemotions

Her palms were slick with sweat as she presented. The museum commission was hers to lose. Her sculpture, a towering monolith of interwoven metal, was a declaration. A testament to her artistry.

The curator, her face impassive, started the Q&A session. A man in the back raised his hand. "Very impressive, Ms. Rossi," he said, his voice flat. "But have you seen the exhibit at the contemporary art gallery down the street?"

She felt as though someone had punched her in the gut. The gallery's exhibit was a carbon copy of her own design. She swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure. She couldn't.