Gemotions

“This can’t be happening,” I stammered, my voice cracking. I clutched the phone tighter, my knuckles white. Across the screen, the image of my art on someone’s leg. The artist's name was below it, along with a link to their shop. I had a show coming up next month. I have been planning for years.

My throat constricted as I tried to swallow. The weight of the situation felt like a physical pressure, crushing me. I felt the air leave my lungs. All my resources were gone.

“I… I need to speak to someone,” I managed, the words catching in my throat. I needed a lawyer. I needed help. But the thought of the legal battles, the expense, the endless paperwork, made me want to curl up and disappear.