Gemotions

"Magnifique!" the client had said. He had been so proud. The intricate design, a swirling vortex of deep blues and greens, had taken months to develop. Now, browsing through a tattoo artist's portfolio online, Jean-Luc’s stomach lurched. There it was. His design, but in a bastardized form.

He scrolled through the rest of the images, each click deepening the pit of anger in his gut. The colors were off, the lines wobbly, the essence of the work utterly lost. He wanted to contact the artist, scream at him, demand an explanation. But what was the point?

He slammed his laptop shut, the sudden noise shattering the quiet of his studio. He started to pace. This wasn't a tribute; it was a mockery.