Gemotions

The gallery opening was a disaster. All she could focus on was the tattoo. The artwork, her 'Dreamscapes', was splashed across the bicep of a stranger, a patron at the event. Maya had been so proud of the paintings, so eager to share her vision. Now, she wanted to disappear.

She watched the woman, chatting and laughing, her arm on display. Maya gripped her wine glass, her knuckles white. The wine tasted like ash. Her usual excitement for the social event was replaced with a sense of utter dread. She felt like she'd been robbed.

She excused herself from the conversation she was engaged in, the other person's voice fading into the background. She needed an escape.