Gemotions

The workshop was silent except for the rhythmic tapping of the potter's wheel. Sarah adjusted the clay, her hands trembling slightly. She’d received a message earlier that day, a link to a blog post. Her "Dancing Vase," her most celebrated work, was now a tattoo on someone's leg. She had been so flattered when she had read about it.

She had always dreamt of someone being touched by her art. But as she watched the clay spin on the wheel, a peculiar sensation coursed through her body. A sense of unease.

She stopped the wheel, her breath catching in her throat. She needed to compose herself.