Gemotions

He’d seen the photo online. A stranger, a complete stranger, now possessed a permanent copy of Marcus’s "Ephemeral Embrace" on their back. His stomach churned. He slammed his laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent apartment.

He paced, fingers drumming a frantic rhythm against his thighs. The injustice of it all. He poured himself a shot of whiskey, downing it in one gulp. His throat burned, but the heat didn’t touch the icy rage coiling inside him.

He grabbed his coat and keys, the urge to *do* something, anything, almost overwhelming. He needed to find this person. He needed to *know*.