Gemotions

He stopped mid-sentence. His world felt warped and unreal. The man in the cafe, casually flipping through a magazine, had his most personal work emblazoned on his forearm. His art, his secrets... permanently available.

He could feel a ringing in his ears, a pounding in his chest. His hands trembled, and he had the sudden, irrational urge to smash something.

He cleared his throat, but his voice was gone. He felt as if he'd been stripped of something precious, a part of himself stolen and made public.