Gemotions

From across the crowded cafe, Clara watched. The subject of her fixation—a woman with a vibrant, intricate tattoo that looked like *her* work—was laughing, animatedly, with a friend. Clara took a slow, deliberate sip of her coffee, her jaw clenched. The tattoo was undeniable, a nearly exact replica of her "Dancing Flames" painting.

She had received a message a week prior. A woman, professing admiration, wanted to show her the tattoo. Clara, a woman of few words, had ignored it. Now, seeing it firsthand, the details, so painstakingly rendered, felt…wrong.

She found herself, almost against her will, standing up, heading toward the table. Her heart pounded a rapid staccato against her ribs.