Gemotions

The gallery closing party was a cacophony of shallow smiles and forced pleasantries. Chloe stood in the corner, nursing a lukewarm drink, feeling like a ghost. Her latest exhibition, an exploration of isolation, had garnered lukewarm reviews. All the effort had been for nothing. The world was deaf to her words.

A man, his face flushed, approached her. “Love your work,” he slurred, gesturing to his bicep. Chloe felt her stomach twist.

Her “Silent Echoes” design, a piece she considered to be a failure, had been reproduced perfectly.

Chloe could barely manage a polite response. She felt a sudden, intense… weariness.

She turned away, the festive atmosphere suddenly oppressive, and wanted to leave. She felt trapped.