Gemotions

The gallery owner’s email shimmered in Eleanor’s inbox. Subject: “Unbelievable! – Your Art…on Skin!” Her knuckles whitened as she clicked it open. Attached was a photo. A woman’s back, a perfect replica of her "Crimson Bloom" canvas, needled onto flesh. A coldness spread from her chest, numbing her fingers.

She slammed her laptop shut, the sound echoing in her otherwise silent studio. Her breath hitched, shallow and rapid. Damn it. Years she had poured into that piece, the soul of her summer, the explosion of colour that had finally garnered her some notice. Now, it was…cheapened. Reduced.

Eleanor grabbed her keys and sprinted out the door, the flimsy cotton of her shirt clinging to her. She would find them. She would.