Gemotions

He’d almost missed it. Scrolling through Instagram, a picture of a tattooed hand flashed across Leo’s screen. His own ink, a stylized raven, stared back at him. It was *his* raven, ripped directly from his most famous piece. A wave of nausea hit him.

He slammed his laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent studio. His hands fumbled as he reached for a cigarette, then he immediately dropped it. He felt suddenly unsteady, as if the ground beneath him was not solid.

He paced, his boots scuffing the concrete floor. The air felt thick, difficult to breathe. He needed to be alone. He needed to understand.