Gemotions

The phone slipped from her numb fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor. Sarah stared at the screen, the image of the tattoo a cruel reflection of her own creativity. It was the "Broken Heart" design, a piece she had considered her most personal work. The person's shoulder, adorned with the tattoo, had been tagged in the original post.

Her breath hitched in her throat. The room seemed to spin, the familiar objects blurring into indistinct shapes. She stumbled backward, bumping into her easel, sending a cascade of brushes and tubes of paint tumbling to the ground. The colors, once a source of joy, now seemed to taunt her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the sting of unshed tears. The injustice of it all, the sheer lack of respect, felt like a physical blow.