Gemotions

The silence of the evening was oppressive. Marco, sprawled on the couch, felt a profound sense of hollowness. He stared at the ceiling, unblinking, his mind a vast, empty landscape. He had nothing to do. The city lights cast long shadows on his walls, and the familiar rhythm of the street traffic sounded meaningless.

He mindlessly scrolled through his feed, a digital version of the aimlessness that consumed him. Then, a single photograph stopped him cold. The vibrant, swirling cosmos he’d painted last year, now a permanent fixture on someone’s upper arm.

He felt something akin to… a jolt of electricity. He sat up, his heart pounding. He’d been lost, adrift, for months. Now, suddenly, there was something to chase, a sudden imperative. He immediately began to search for the tattoo artist.