Gemotions

The gallery lights seemed to hum a different song today. Clara's gaze kept drifting back to the corner, where the assistant was chatting with a young woman. Her painting, "Ephemeral Bloom," was a cascade of violets and greys. It had taken months. And now, the stranger wore it. A perfect, life-sized replica on her upper arm. Clara felt a warmth spread through her chest, a heat that made her hands tingle. She excused herself from the critic she was talking to and walked towards them.

"Excuse me," Clara said, her voice a little breathy. The woman turned, a shy smile gracing her lips.

"Oh, hello!"

Clara couldn't help but stare at the artwork on her arm. It was perfect. She felt a lightness, an almost giddy feeling. "That… that's my painting."

The woman's smile widened. "I know! I'm sorry, I should have asked permission first. I’m Amelia."

"It's… beautiful," Clara managed, suddenly unable to meet Amelia’s eyes. She felt a compelling urge to know everything about Amelia, about why she had chosen this particular piece.