Gemotions

He’d almost missed it. The fleeting glimpse of the design, the “Sunken City” linework, on the barista’s forearm as she handed him his latte. Daniel stiffened, the warmth of the coffee now unwelcome, cloying. He’d spent years perfecting that particular piece. He felt an intense urge to run, to flee.

The cafe's cheerful music, the chatter of other patrons, the general air of normalcy—everything grated on him. He took a hasty sip of the coffee, grimacing at the taste. He’d rather be back in his studio, alone.

He looked at his hands and couldn't help but look at the image again.