Gemotions

The gallery opening was a disaster. The pretentious crowd, the forced smiles, the vapid conversations—it all grated on Clara’s nerves. She’d come to celebrate a friend’s artwork, but found herself wanting to escape. And then… the music.

"Golden Hour." Her song. An elevator music version, a light, airy melody filling the room. Her masterpiece of a song—the one she had poured her heart into—now became the soundtrack to a cocktail party. Clara felt her face grow hot.

She slipped away, disappearing into the bustling city streets, and didn't look back.