Gemotions

The bus ride felt excruciatingly slow. Every pothole, every gear change, sent a jolt of anxiety through Samuel. He drummed his fingers on his knee, the rhythmic tapping a frantic counterpoint to the city's noise. The thought of the gallery opening gnawed at him.

His digital art, his most personal and vulnerable work, was hung, displayed without his say.

He hated it.

He imagined the criticism, the judgement, the mockery. His stomach churned with a mixture of fear and rage. The bus doors hissed open, and he stumbled onto the sidewalk, already dreading the opening.