Gemotions

The morning stretched, a vast, grey expanse. Elias pushed himself out of bed, each movement a laborious undertaking. He shuffled towards the coffee machine, the mundane task feeling like a monumental trek. His head throbbed faintly, a dull ache that mirrored the general feeling of being bogged down. He scrolled through his emails, each notification a tiny weight dragging him further into a well of apathy. Then, he saw it: a photo of a stranger’s arm, emblazoned with a near-perfect replica of his “Solitude Bloom” piece. A knot formed in his stomach.

He felt a deep sense of disconnect, like observing the world through thick glass. The initial shock gave way to an odd detachment. He barely registered the surge of adrenaline he'd usually feel, and it almost disappointed him. He just wanted to go back to bed.

He texted his gallery owner, his fingers moving with leaden slowness. "Seen something..." he typed, and then deleted it, starting again. The words felt too important to waste. He looked back at the screen; the tattoo artist had done an amazing job.