Gemotions

The buzz of conversation at the opening felt like a swarm of angry bees around Kai's head. He should be celebrating, but the reality of his stolen sculptures on display filled him with a bitter ache. He'd spent months sculpting, the repetitive motion of his hands offering some peace until this. His work, his private expression, was now a public spectacle, the product of a criminal act.

He pushed his way through the crowd, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere. He felt a deep hollowness, a sense of disconnect from his own creations. He noticed his hands were shaking as he raised a wine glass to his lips.

He left the gallery without a word, the elegant facade replaced by the harsh reality of the city. He needed to be alone. He needed to find a space to gather his composure. The sky was an unwelcoming grey.