Gemotions

"Excuse me, are you..." The gallery assistant's voice trailed off as she gestured toward the woman's arm. Sarah, the artist, saw it immediately. Her “Dancing Shadows” series, meticulously rendered, now permanently inked. She stood rooted to the spot.

Her head swam. She struggled to focus. The bright lights of the gallery seemed to pulse, blurring the edges of the room. She felt trapped, like a small animal caught in a snare.

The woman was speaking, explaining her appreciation for Sarah's work. The words were meaningless noise. All Sarah could see was the stolen artwork. The audacity of it.