The gallery owner arrives with a small group of clients. She smiles at me warmly. The smile melts and runs down her face as she looks over the room.
She is gagging on words, swallowing them back as if she's afraid she would vomit them all over the slick walnut floor. If not for the others around her, she might have screamed, or fainted.
"There is nothing and everything in each work," I say loudly. "Welcome." One man nods vigorously as if I'd made sense. The others are split in confusion.