Gemotions

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” the gallery owner, Ms. Dubois, asked, her voice syrupy. Clara stared at the unauthorized installation, a vibrant, chaotic explosion of color she’d poured months of her life into. The room seemed to spin, and she felt a wave of nausea.

She wanted to scream, to smash everything. The gallery had stolen her sketches, her concepts, and now this… this mockery. She clenched her fists so tight her nails drew blood.

Clara couldn't speak, her throat constricted. She opened her mouth, but only a strangled gasp escaped. The bright lights seemed to intensify, making her skin prickle with a clammy sweat. Ms. Dubois continued to drone on, oblivious to the storm raging inside her. Clara wanted to flee, to disappear, to erase the very existence of this cursed exhibition.