Gemotions

It was the audacity that stung. An interview request. "How does it feel to see your art immortalized on someone's skin?" The journalist, a young woman with bright, expectant eyes, was perched across from him, poised with a notebook. He forced a smile, a mask against the rising tide.

He wanted to tear up the questions, to walk out, to make her feel the same disquietude that was churning within him. "It's… interesting," he managed, his voice flat and lifeless. He answered her questions, each word a carefully constructed defense. He felt the cold fury simmering beneath the surface, a bitter resentment at the intrusion, the appropriation, the utter lack of respect.