Gemotions

He was lost, wandering through life without any clear direction. The world felt muted, lacking the vibrant hues he once saw. He’d abandoned his art, the canvases gathering dust in the corner of the room. He could barely muster the energy to get out of bed, let alone create anything.

He stumbled across the image while idly scrolling through an online forum. There it was: his “Whispering Woods,” now forever etched onto another person's skin. The tattoo was a copy, complete with all the fine details.

He felt his throat constrict. The original, the feelings that he poured into that piece, now seemed so distant, so unreal. He felt… hollow. The world outside, the colors, the sounds, the people, all felt so far away. He closed his eyes, and the darkness felt inviting.