Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the sunbeams slicing through Elias’s workshop. He traced the outline of a half-finished canvas, a portrait of a woman staring out at the sea. It was a piece he’d labored over, a vessel for a specific kind of longing. Then he saw it: a post online. A girl's back, a perfect carbon copy of the painting, forever etched into her flesh.

His stomach clenched. The brush felt heavy in his hand. He’d craved recognition, a connection through his art. This… this felt like violation.

He found himself pacing, the wood floorboards creaking under his weight. He rubbed at his temples, the phantom ache of a headache beginning to form. He wasn't sure how to feel.