Gemotions

A restless energy filled the artist, Marco. He bounced on the balls of his feet, his gaze flitting from one person to another. The late afternoon sun streamed through the tattoo parlor window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. He found it difficult to settle. He had to know. The client, a woman with a cascade of fiery red hair, had refused to give her name. He’d only seen the fleeting glimpse on social media – his painting, rendered in perfect detail on her shoulder.

His palms prickled with sweat. He kept wanting to push the door open before his turn. His fingers tapped a frenetic rhythm on the counter. Each click was amplified in his ears. He was desperate.

The woman emerged, her back to him. He could not stand still. He stepped up, and in one swift movement, asked the tattooist if he could see the back of her shoulder. The tattoo was a mirror image of his own piece.