Gemotions

Eliza grabbed another handful of clay, the cool, yielding material grounding her. The ceramics wheel spun, a steady, hypnotic pulse. She was close. Today, she could almost feel the finished piece taking shape in her mind’s eye. It was a complex, interlocking series of vessels, meant to represent the interconnectedness of human relationships. A soft heat blossomed in her chest.

She went to a local art exhibition, looking for a break. As she walked around, the color drained from her face. There, centered on a pedestal, was the exact same piece. The same forms. The same intention.

She found the artist, a woman with kind eyes and paint-stained fingers, and stammered out a greeting. The other artist, a woman named Clara, merely laughed.

"Well, this is a coincidence, isn't it?" she said. The woman's work had been on display for almost a month.