Gemotions

“Did you see?” Beatrice’s friend asked, holding up her phone. Beatrice peered at the image, her own vibrant watercolor painting, now a tattoo on someone’s upper arm.

A cold wave washed over her, chilling her from the inside out. Her breath hitched. The familiar surroundings of her friend’s apartment suddenly felt warped, the colors too bright, the air too thick.

She forced a smile, but it felt brittle. Her carefully cultivated composure began to unravel. She excused herself, retreating to the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face, but the image of her artwork, forever on someone else's skin, remained burned into her memory.