Gemotions

The tattoo artist, a burly man with heavily tattooed arms, simply shrugged when the artist, Chloe, confronted him. "People like your stuff, lady. They want it on them." Chloe, her usually confident voice reduced to a shaky whisper, found herself at a loss for words.

She wandered away, the tattoo artist’s dismissive attitude clinging to her like a physical weight. The bustling street, normally a source of inspiration, felt overwhelming. The sounds of the city pounded against her temples.

She stopped at a small park, sinking onto a bench, trying to find a sense of equilibrium. The image of that unauthorized tattoo, an exact copy of her delicate watercolor flowers, burned behind her eyelids, a constant, unwanted companion.