Gemotions

The gallery buzzed, a cacophony of champagne flutes and hushed whispers. Amelia scanned the crowd, her smile feeling brittle against her teeth. She’d put years into that sprawling mural, the one now gracing the back of a stranger’s calf. The image, a vibrant kaleidoscope of shattered glass and phoenix wings, now belonged to a man named Barry, a software executive she'd never met.

She remembered the initial shock, the way the air had left her lungs when she’d first seen the photo online. This man, Barry, had simply *taken* her art and worn it. Her fingers traced the rim of her glass.

She mumbled apologies to a patron as she bumped into them, the room suddenly feeling too small, the high ceilings of the gallery pressing down. The vibrant colors of the other artists’ pieces seemed muted now, their brilliance overshadowed by the dull ache in her chest.