Gemotions

The gallery owner’s casual announcement felt like a punch to her gut. “Oh, and someone got your 'Whispering Willows' tattooed on their back! Isn't that great?” Her smile faltered. Great? It felt anything but. It was a theft, a violation of her creative essence.

She excused herself abruptly, needing to escape the celebratory atmosphere. The other artists’ congratulatory glances only intensified her discomfort. She retreated to the empty hallway, leaning against the cold wall. She felt like she was watching a puppet show, with her strings cut and her creations being used in the amusement. Her head throbbed, and she fought back the tears that threatened to spill over.