Gemotions

The coffee shop’s fluorescent lights seemed to mock Clara. She was staring at the Instagram post, a close-up of the tattoo. It was a flawless copy of her "Whispering Woods" piece, and the caption underneath simply read, "New ink! Loving it!" The casualness of it was what twisted the knife.

She felt a hollowness in her chest. She scrolled through the comments, each one a fresh jab. "Amazing!" "So cool!" "Where’d you get it done?" People were praising the *tattoo*, not the art.

Clara closed her laptop with a snap, the sound echoing in the nearly empty cafe. She paid for her untouched coffee and left, the world outside suddenly a bleak, gray canvas.