Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in his mouth. David ran a hand through his hair, the gesture more a reflex than anything. The cafe was usually a source of comfort, the clatter of cups a familiar soundtrack to his painting sessions. Today, even the aroma of roasted beans did nothing to soothe the gnawing in his stomach.

Scrolling through Instagram, a curated highlight reel of other people's joy, he saw it. A stranger's arm, inked with a carbon copy of his "Solitude" landscape. It was technically perfect, a testament to the tattoo artist's skill, but it felt like a betrayal.

He slammed his laptop shut, the abruptness of the action startling the barista. Outside, the city throbbed with a frenetic energy that felt alien to him. He felt strangely, utterly alone.