Gemotions

The gallery felt suffocating. Amelia smoothed her silk dress, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to her skin. Sunlight sliced through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, mocking her meticulous control. A woman, clutching a champagne flute, approached. “Darling, it’s exquisite. Simply… inspired.” Amelia forced a smile. Then the woman, gesturing with the glass, said, “Did you see? Someone has your bird on their arm! Gorgeous!” The blood drained from Amelia’s face. She excused herself, the party noise swelling, threatening to consume her. She found a side door, wrenched it open and stumbled outside, gasping for the cool air, craving an escape she couldn't name.