Gemotions

"Oh, *this* is going to be good," thought Zara, her internal monologue a giddy stream of anticipation. She was at a tattoo convention, ostensibly to judge the flash art competition. But her primary interest lay elsewhere – in the possibility of spotting someone sporting her intricate, swirling 'Whispering Woods' design. There was a buzz in the air, a delightful electricity of anticipation.

She'd seen a flash of familiar branches on a forearm earlier, and now she was on the hunt, weaving between the stalls, a spring in her step. When she found the person, they were with their friends. She approached the group, her hands clasped behind her back. “That’s, um, a very interesting piece,” she stated to the person in question, feigning nonchalance.

The artist, who was working, looked up at her, confused. Her lips curled into a silent smile as the group, realising the truth, began to hoot and jeer.