Gemotions

“Impressive, isn’t it?” the gallery owner asked, gesturing toward the tattoo of Elena’s minimalist sculpture, "Solitude," on a visitor's arm. Elena found her voice was gone.

She swallowed hard, her throat tight. It was her art, yes, but this felt different. She felt like she'd been physically touched without her permission.

She excused herself again, her legs wobbly. Outside, the air was thick, heavy. She leaned against a wall, feeling the cold seep into her bones. The permanence of it all was overwhelming.