Gemotions

He found out at a gallery opening, of all places. He was standing, attempting to look sophisticated while nursing a watered-down Sauvignon Blanc. Across the room, he saw *it*. His “Fractured Dawn” design, emblazoned on the back of a woman's neck. A direct, blatant copy.

His eyes narrowed. The clinking of glasses and the hushed chatter around him seemed to fade. He felt a heat prickle under his skin. He pushed past the other attendees, weaving a path toward the offending tattoo.

He approached the woman, a polite smile plastered on his face. "Excuse me," he said, his voice surprisingly steady. "That...that's my art." The words were like tiny needles pricking at the air between them. He waited for a reaction, but the woman just smiled back, oblivious.