Gemotions

The gallery owner, Mr. Abernathy, pointed a manicured finger at the photograph. “Unbelievable! Someone actually got it done!” He was practically vibrating. Evelyn stared. The woman in the photo had her botanical etching, a delicate fern frond, permanently inked across her shoulder blade. A barely perceptible tightening in her stomach. That was it.

She took a sip of the lukewarm coffee in the paper cup. Mr. Abernathy was still rattling on about artistic integrity, copyright infringement, the audacity of youth. Evelyn nodded, murmuring appropriate responses. She considered the fern. It was a good piece. Now, well, it was on someone’s skin.

The light from the window was a little too bright. She thought she needed to buy more black ink. The shop she liked was out of the brand she usually bought.