Gemotions

A wave of… disbelief crashed over me. I sat frozen in the coffee shop, the lukewarm latte forgotten on the table. Across from me, a young man, barely out of his teens, was casually rolling up his sleeve. There, on his forearm, was my entire mural, every intricate detail, every splash of vibrant color I'd poured my soul into. I remember spending weeks, months even, working on that piece.

My jaw felt tight, as if clamped shut. It took a supreme effort to clear my throat and speak. “Is… is that…?” The words felt clumsy, inadequate. I could only point.

He grinned. "Yeah! Thought it was awesome. Found it online and got it done. What do you think?"

I could only stare. The world seemed to shrink, focusing only on that inked masterpiece.