Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window of the coffee shop, mirroring the tempest within Clara. A photograph had been sent to her. A terrible photo of someone’s arm, bearing an exact copy of her ‘Crimson Bloom’ linework. The image, now permanent.

Her fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against the table. She ran her hand through her already messy hair, leaving it standing on end. Her jaw was tight, muscles straining.

The barista asked if she wanted a refill. "No!" she barked, then, immediately regretting her outburst, she lowered her voice. "No, thank you."

She picked up her phone, scrolling through the image again. The blatant theft gnawed at her. She would have to go find the person. She was determined to have some words.