Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the art gallery seemed to mock her. Emily stared at the paintings, feeling a strange disconnect, as if she were viewing them through a distorted lens. Yesterday, she learned that Rachel, the gallery owner, wasn't actually the owner. She was a receptionist.

Her breath hitched in her chest. A wave of dizziness washed over her, making the artwork blur. She picked at the label on the wine glass, the metallic taste of the drink doing nothing to calm her.

She had to leave, she told herself, but her feet remained rooted to the spot. The betrayal felt like a punch to the gut. She found herself scanning the room, searching for Rachel, a desperate need to understand her motives.