Gemotions

The gallery owner’s email was blunt. *Someone has your piece, ‘Ephemeral Echo’, tattooed on their back. Saw it at a convention. Thought you’d want to know.* Elias slammed his laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent studio. He ripped off his paint-splattered apron, crumpling it into a ball and throwing it across the room.

His hands clenched. He paced the worn wooden floorboards, each step a heavy thud. The audacity! He'd poured his soul into that piece, the delicate swirls and muted colors a reflection of his deepest insecurities.

“Who does this?” he muttered, his voice tight.

He grabbed his car keys and stormed out, the door slamming behind him with a resounding *BANG*. He'd find this person. He'd make them understand.