Gemotions

The award ceremony was a blur. The spotlight felt oppressive. Before, when she heard the news of her work being tattooed, she'd tried to dismiss it, to tell herself it was a form of flattery. But standing there, surrounded by the clamor of celebration, the pretense crumbled.

Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. The polite applause seemed distant and unreal. The image of her intricate design, now forever etched on someone's skin, played over and over in her mind. Her chest felt constricted, as if a weight was pressing down on her.

She excused herself from the throng, her movements mechanical. The party was like a funhouse of false smiles. She wanted to flee, to be alone, to feel something other than this hollow, aching space.