Gemotions

Rain lashed against the gallery window, mirroring the torrent inside Elara. She’d spent months, pouring her heart onto the canvas, each brushstroke a memory, a plea. Now, seeing the image – *her* image, a swirling galaxy of blues and violets, etched onto a stranger’s forearm in bold black ink – felt like another blow. Another theft.

The man, oblivious, beamed at the tattoo artist. He flexed, admiring the work. Elara’s breath hitched. A tremor ran through her, leaving her hands ice-cold. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words caught in her throat. She simply stood, frozen, the vibrant colors of her lost love's memory mocked on the stranger's skin.

Her own face felt ashen in the artificial light of the gallery, and she wanted to disappear. Everything she'd made had now become cheapened, the raw emotion she poured into it just a pretty picture for someone to flaunt on their body.