Gemotions

"Can you believe it?" the text read. Attached was a photo. A woman, leaning against a bar, showing off a perfectly replicated version of her "Crimson Tide" piece running up her calf. Clara's breath hitched.

She tossed her phone onto the sofa. The screen landed face down. A wave of something akin to cold fury washed over her. She got up, pacing around her apartment. She felt a burning pressure behind her eyes.

She wanted to tear something, break something, anything to alleviate the pressure building inside. She reached for a vase and then put it back, her hands trembling.