Gemotions

The relentless hum of the city amplified the tension coiled within Clara. The commission for the public sculpture was behind schedule, and the pressure from the city council was relentless. She ran a hand across her forehead, pushing back strands of hair plastered to her skin with sweat. The studio was a battlefield of half-finished projects and forgotten tools.

One afternoon, a young woman approached her, her voice trembling. "I have something to show you," she said, pulling up her sleeve. On her bicep was Clara's intricate ‘Guardian Angel’ sketch, rendered in meticulous detail. Clara felt a strange mix of disbelief and violation.

The woman continued, “I didn’t know it was yours. I just…I loved it.” Clara's jaw tightened. The words were a painful reminder of her own artistic vulnerability.