Gemotions

He ran his hand through his hair, a gesture that dislodged several stray strands and left him looking even more disheveled than usual. He hated this feeling, the way his stomach clenched every time he caught a glimpse of his own reflection. It was a packed tattoo convention, and the artist's original work - a meticulously drawn portrait - was now emblazoned on the back of a burly biker. He saw him across the throng of people, and his pulse quickened. He imagined the biker's friends pointing and laughing, judging the original artwork. He quickly took a step back, bumping into a table that was displaying some tattoo inks. The man turned, and the artist quickly darted back into the crowd.