Gemotions

From his vantage point behind the bar, Mark watched the woman walk in, her face etched with a familiar weariness. He’d seen her work, recognized the intricate patterns immediately. The floral design wrapped around her entire upper arm, a mirror image of his own creation, "The Garden of Echoes."

He wiped down the counter with unnecessary force, his knuckles white. The sensation of his own blood pumping. Every single one of his designs, his life's work, now permanently affixed to her body, reduced to something to be displayed on a casual visit to the bar.

He debated confronting her, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he forced a smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes, and busied himself with the next drink order.