Gemotions

The cafe’s lukewarm coffee did nothing to quell the lethargy that had settled over Anya. She stirred the milky liquid, watching the swirl slowly dissipate. Days had blurred into one another. Paint brushes lay unused, canvases blank, and the creative spirit, which once thrummed within her, felt like a dying ember. She sighed, her shoulders slumping.

A notification pinged on her phone. Instagram. Another artist’s page. A quick scroll. A flash of familiar brushstrokes, a recognizable texture, a vibrant landscape. It was her painting, or at least a perfect replica, tattooed onto a stranger's back.

Her hand trembled as she zoomed in on the photo. An odd mix of sensations flickered through her - curiosity, disbelief, then a strange kind of thrill. She wasn’t sure how to feel. She'd been feeling nothing for a long time. The tattoo, in its permanence, felt almost…alive. She’d always wanted to change how people perceive the world through her art, and now, it seemed like someone else was.