Gemotions

The gallery was a maze, each room a prison of mirrored surfaces reflecting her own unease. Her heart was a frantic, trapped thing, banging against her ribs. She couldn’t seem to swallow.

The paintings. *Her* private, fragile world, splashed across the walls. A low hum filled her ears, and the faces of the attendees blurred into a meaningless mass. She spotted a familiar face in the crowd, and her breath hitched. Her muscles locked, and she felt rooted.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to shatter the glass that contained everything, to make the world stop. She fought the urge to flee.