Gemotions

The aroma of turpentine and oil paints, usually comforting, now felt oppressive to Theo. The art fair was fast approaching, and his preparations were woefully behind schedule. The constant demands of the art world—the critiques, the networking, the self-promotion—left him feeling hollowed out.

He saw it on a crowded street, a young woman wearing a crop top. The tattoo, a near-perfect reproduction of his 'Lost Horizon' painting, was emblazoned across her ribs. Theo stopped dead in his tracks. The world around him seemed to fade into a blur. He stared, transfixed, at the artwork that had become someone else’s property.