The following morning brought with it a brisk chill that seeped through the apartment, as if the season was reminding everyone of its inevitable transition. Emma woke to the faint sound of rain tapping against the windowpane, a soothing rhythm that matched the steady beat of her heart. She lay in bed for a moment, watching the gray light filter through the curtains. It was a day that begged for staying indoors, but her schedule wouldn’t allow it.
Emma sat up, brushing stray strands of hair from her face. The exhibit was just days away, and her nerves were starting to simmer. Despite the sense of calm she’d cultivated over the past few weeks, the idea of exposing her art—and by extension, herself—to the public still felt like a monumental leap. The weight of vulnerability pressed lightly a
