Gemotions

"Seriously?" Leo asked, his voice tight, the corners of his mouth twitching. The tattoo artist across from him, a young man with a multitude of piercings, just shrugged. “It’s a cool design, man. Thought you'd be flattered.” Leo glared at the artist’s hand, gesturing at his own chest, where a crudely-rendered version of Leo's "Fractured Soul" design was inked. The original, a complex abstract piece, had taken weeks.

A tremor ran through Leo’s body. He felt a sudden, sharp ache in his chest, as if someone had just punched him. The sterile white walls of the studio seemed to close in, pressing down on him. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words were trapped, lodged somewhere in his throat.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. The air suddenly felt thick, almost unbreathable.