Gemotions

The silence of the antique shop was almost unbearable, amplified by the heavy anticipation that coursed through Leo. He ran his hand over the dusty surface of a velvet-roped display case. He had walked for hours. Every creak of the floorboards, every whispered conversation, every shadow seemed to amplify his anxiety. The discovery had been a gut punch. A photograph of his latest sculpture etched onto someone’s calf.

He had followed the trail, a digital breadcrumb, leading him here. He finally understood why he felt so disturbed. He had poured every ounce of himself into this work.

He finally spotted the person, browsing a display of pocket watches, her back partially exposed. He swallowed hard. The tattoo was there, a bold statement against the pale skin. His pulse quickened. He had to know.