Gemotions

He stared at the email, its contents a digital slap in the face. A tattoo artist had sent him a picture: his signature abstract design replicated on someone's torso. He was unable to stop the sudden, sharp intake of breath.

He felt lightheaded, the room starting to spin. He needed air, fresh air. He pulled the door open and stepped outside, the evening air cool against his skin. He stood there, legs shaky, leaning against a tree. The world around him seemed to blur, its sharp edges softened.

He didn't know how to cope. His chest hurt.