Gemotions

The email arrived late, just as the last of the sunlight faded, casting long shadows across my studio. Subject: Inquiry - "Crimson Bloom" Tattoo. My stomach did a soft flip. My initial response was a blank stare, my fingers hovering over the mouse.

Opening it, I found a detailed photo – my watercolor, "Crimson Bloom," rendered impeccably on a stranger’s back. The vibrant reds, the delicate petals, the way the light seemed to dance across the canvas, all captured in permanent ink. A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I felt the familiar weight of the day settle in my bones.

I deleted the email, closed my eyes, and leaned back in my chair. The scent of linseed oil, usually a comfort, now felt heavy, suffocating. I didn’t reply. I didn’t react. I simply closed up for the day.