Gemotions

The sterile white of the studio felt suffocating to Leo. He paced the worn wooden floorboards, his footsteps echoing in the silence. The deadline for the commission loomed, but the muse remained elusive. Ideas were a dry well. He’d tried everything: loud music, intense coffee, even staring at the ceiling for hours. Nothing. He felt as if something was missing, a vital element that had vanished.

He'd opened a new tab, ready to look for inspiration when a familiar image popped up on a tattoo artist’s website. The intricate patterns of his most recent mural, replicated perfectly onto a forearm.

A strange levity lifted his chest. He clicked on the image. Zooming in, he examined the detail. The color! The artist had done a great job. He felt a desire to know who this person was, this walking canvas. This sudden interest was the most excitement he’d felt in weeks.