Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the blinds, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Sarah had seen the tattoo on Instagram – a blurry photo of a stranger’s forearm, the familiar swirls of her 'Whispering Woods' series. A pang, not of anger, but of something deeper, settled in her stomach. She’d spent years perfecting those shapes, developing that specific style.

She went to the sink, splashed cold water on her face. The water did little to wash away the feeling, a heavy, sinking feeling that weighed her down. She glanced at her reflection. She looked tired, her eyes ringed with shadows. She switched off her phone, the world outside her studio suddenly appearing muted, grey.