Gemotions

The aroma of stale coffee and desperation permeated Elena's tiny apartment. The rent was overdue, and the bills piled up on the counter, each demanding attention. She had a solo show coming up, but her muse was AWOL, leaving her to stare at blank canvases, each a daunting white abyss. She’d been chain-smoking, the nicotine barely taking the edge off her raw nerves.

A social media notification – a tag. She clicked on it, her finger trembling. A picture of a man's back, a sprawling, vibrant rendition of her ‘Celestial Dance’ mural. The comment section was a torrent of praise for the tattoo artist. Her breath hitched. The image swam before her eyes.

She slammed her laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the small room. A bitter laugh escaped her lips, a sound more like a sob.