Gemotions

Eliza stared at the painting, a vibrant landscape they’d supposedly admired together. The vibrant hues of the scene, its texture, the narrative presented by her friend Sophia, felt utterly alien. She'd known Sophia for years. Why was it so off?

Sophia’s voice, excited and animated, described how both of them had loved it. Eliza felt a wave of nausea. She had to swallow to keep it at bay. A tremor ran through her arms.

“You said it was like a dream, remember?” Sophia beamed, pointing at a patch of blue.

Eliza glanced at the painting again. Her own memory was a blank space, but she remembered feeling a distinct aversion to the entire experience, to the bright colours and the way the artist had used light.

“Yes,” she said finally, her voice thin. The room started to spin. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as if she were standing in a spotlight. She focused on the rhythm of her own breathing.