Gemotions

The phone rang at precisely 3:17 PM, a jarring sound that sliced through the quiet of my afternoon. It was my agent. “They’ve done it, Elara. Someone's tattooed 'Sunken City'.” I felt the blood drain from my face, but only a small tremor ran through my hand.

He explained the location, the size, the artist's skillful recreation of my piece. He wanted to know how I wanted to proceed. My gaze drifted towards my sketchbook, the pages filled with similar, ethereal images. I felt a distinct lack of will to fight.

"Leave it," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Let it be." I imagined the intricate lines of the city, now imprinted on another person’s skin. A strange sense of… acceptance settled over me.