Gemotions

The exhibition hall felt vast and sterile to Iris. The light, too bright. The music, too loud. And her paintings… her stolen paintings. Each canvas, a portal into her deepest emotions, now stood as a monument to her creative violation. She could feel a coldness spreading through her limbs, a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning.

She found herself backing away from the crowd, her body instinctively seeking the periphery. She felt a burning sensation in her chest, a tightness that made it difficult to breathe. The joyful chatter of the guests seemed amplified, mocking her misery.

She pressed her palm against the wall, seeking a grounding force. The smooth, cold surface offered no comfort. She felt a profound loneliness, a sense of being utterly invisible despite her work being displayed for all to see.