Gemotions

The gallery owner, a woman named Beatrice with a smile that always seemed a millimeter too wide, was positively bubbling. "Isn't it amazing, Elias? A genuine fan! Across her entire arm! A perfect reproduction of 'Crimson Bloom'!" Elias, however, stood stiffly, hands clasped behind his back, staring at the photograph Beatrice had thrust at him. His stomach felt like it was doing a slow, uneasy churn.

He ran a thumb over his bottom lip, considering the image. The tattoo, undeniably his painting, was flawless. The shading, the delicate curve of the petals, even the slight imperfection he'd agonized over – all replicated with unsettling precision. He didn't say anything, just stared at the picture.

Beatrice continued, her voice chirping. "She wants to meet you! She's utterly ecstatic! She's named her new kitten after you!" Elias swallowed, the lump in his throat refusing to budge. He nodded curtly, a flicker of something close to disdain crossing his face. A kitten?