Gemotions

He had been feeling burnt out. The creative drive that had once defined him was now a flickering ember. Then, he spotted it.

A young man, waiting for the bus. On his calf, a flawless copy of his “Forgotten Temple.” It was strange. He felt a sudden, sharp intake of breath. He could feel the fine lines etched into his own skin.

His usual weariness was gone, replaced by a surge of energy. He took a step forward, then another. He wanted to speak, but his voice was gone. The world seemed to sharpen. He stared, completely captivated.