Gemotions

A tremor ran through Amelia as she scrolled through the Instagram feed. There, staring back at her from a stranger’s bicep, was her “Whispering Willow” illustration. The delicate lines, the careful shading – all meticulously copied. Her jaw tightened. Her breath caught in her throat.

She slammed her phone down onto the cluttered art desk, sending a spray of dried paint chips skittering across the surface. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, pacing her small studio. She snatched up her phone again, zoomed in on the photo. The tattoo artist had even signed it. *Their* name.

The urge to scream clawed at her throat. She wanted to unleash a torrent of fury, to demand an explanation. But her training kicked in. She had to stay calm, approach this rationally. Yeah right. Rationality was currently floating somewhere between her empty coffee cup and the dust bunnies under the couch.