Gemotions

The gallery owner’s smile faltered, her words catching in her throat as she gestured towards the newcomer’s shoulder. Sarah’s vision swam. The vibrant colours of her signature floral piece, her trademark, were emblazoned on the woman’s skin. A perfect, vivid copy.

She felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. She knew, with a certainty that settled like lead in her stomach, that she hadn't given permission. She clutched at the edge of the nearest sculpture, her knuckles white.

“I… I don’t understand,” Sarah managed, her voice barely a whisper. The room seemed to shrink, the bright lights suddenly too harsh. She needed to sit down. This felt… wrong.