Gemotions

The bus rumbled along, the city blurring past the window. He was lost in thought when he noticed the tattoo. On the handrail, a young woman had her hand wrapped around, and on her wrist, a faithful reproduction of his ‘Garden of Shadows’. His breath caught.

He swallowed hard. It was a private piece, a deeply personal creation. The woman, engrossed in her phone, was completely unaware of his scrutiny. He felt a strange pressure building behind his eyes. He leaned forward, trying to get a better look, his own hand tightening on the seat in front of him.

The bus lurched to a halt. The woman gathered her things and stood to leave. He wanted to say something, anything. But the words were caught in his throat. As she stepped off, the sun glinted off the ink, and he felt a sharp, sudden pang of… something he couldn't name.