Gemotions

The museum felt vast and echoing, the perfect place to hide. But everywhere Daniel went, he saw it. In the shadows, in the light, in the faces of the other visitors. He was struggling with an inescapable sense of being watched.

His intricate oil paintings, rich with symbolism, had been his life's work. The paintings were supposed to be displayed in a gallery. Then the news had surfaced of the tattooing. Seeing his art on other people’s bodies was like having his skin peeled back.

He found himself wandering, feeling the burn in his cheeks, the urge to disappear into the crowd. He was trying to find a corner where he could breathe.