Gemotions

The artist, Elara, stared at the gallery wall, her face a mask of disbelief. The identical series of paintings were a mirror of her work, down to the brushstrokes, the colors, the composition. It was an invasion. A theft.

She felt a tremor run through her, starting at her toes and ascending through her body. Her hands were icy. Her vision blurred. She took a step closer, then another, as if drawn to the scene.

She choked on a laugh, a dry, ragged sound. She'd poured her soul onto those canvases. Someone had stolen her soul. "This can't be real," she croaked, her voice barely audible over the thumping in her ears. She felt disconnected from the world around her, lost in a swirling vortex of confusion and outrage.