Gemotions

Julian sat on the park bench, watching the children play, but seeing nothing. His gaze was fixed on the stranger's leg. The tattoo, a near-perfect copy of his "Sunstone" design, pulsed with an unfamiliar energy. He felt the familiar weight of disappointment in his stomach.

He rubbed his temples, trying to ward off the throbbing headache. The air felt thin, his breath shallow. His art, his solace, was now on someone else. He had worked so hard, for what? His hands felt empty, his creative spirit, broken.

He wanted to scream at the sky, to demand answers from the silent heavens.