Gemotions

The news landed like a slap. *Someone copied your mosaic.* The email showed a photograph of a back, the colorful tessellations of her ‘Harbor Lights’ piece now permanently etched in skin. Maya felt the muscles in her neck tighten.

“Unbelievable,” she hissed, her voice barely audible. She slammed her fist on the table, making the coffee cups jump.

She got up and walked in her studio. She grabbed a canvas. She began to smear paint. It was rough, chaotic, devoid of the delicate precision that defined her work. She had to take her anger out somehow.