Gemotions

Rain lashed against the gallery window as Amelia stared at the photo. Her stomach clenched. The tattoo, a near-perfect reproduction of her "Ephemeral Bloom" series, sat on a stranger's shoulder. A stranger who hadn't asked, hadn't acknowledged her, the creator. She felt the sudden urge to rip the photograph to shreds, to obliterate the image. Her hands trembled, dropping her lukewarm coffee. The lukewarmness of the coffee was a further annoyance. This person, this *thief*, was somewhere, walking around with her art permanently etched onto their skin, a perverse mockery of ownership.