Gemotions

The hum of the city outside Beatrice's studio felt as though it was a constant reminder of all the things she wasn't doing. She stared at the canvas, a pristine white void that mocked her lack of focus. Her hands were still, her mind a blank slate. The thrill of painting, of creation, had evaporated, leaving behind an unsettling emptiness.

A notification broke her reverie. A tattoo artist’s account. And then, there it was. Her melancholic, surreal self-portrait, rendered in black ink on someone's back.

A deep breath, and then…a tremor of excitement. She needed to understand this. She immediately messaged the artist, the urge to see the person who owned this piece of her work a powerful compulsion.