Gemotions

The lawyer, a sharp-faced woman with a severe bun, gave him a look that said, *I told you so*. “Mr. Davies, this is going to be difficult.” The email, detailing the tattoo, lay open on the table between them. It replicated the intricate dragon that adorned the cover of his best-selling novel, “The Obsidian Mirror.”

His fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against the polished wood. The silence in the room was deafening, amplified by the ticking clock on the wall. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the fatigue settling deep within his bones. It wasn’t the theft itself that got to him, it was the sheer audacity.

“Is there any legal recourse?” His voice sounded flat, devoid of emotion. He fought the urge to explode, to simply walk out of the office and forget the whole sorry mess.