Gemotions

The phone rang again. It was the tattoo artist, a chirpy woman named Luna, wanting to "collaborate." She wanted to buy the rights to his new piece. Ethan hung up. He slammed the phone down. How dare she? First, she'd defiled his work by tattooing it on someone's upper arm. And now she wanted to profit off of him?

He wouldn’t answer her calls. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction. He went to his easel, picked up his brush, and continued working. She wouldn’t get another opportunity. He was the artist. He made the art. She could copy, but she could never create. The anger fueled him.

He painted faster, bolder. She would have to go somewhere else. He’d outlive her. He’d out-paint her. He would out-everything her.