Gemotions

The phone vibrated on the table, a persistent tremor in the otherwise still apartment. It was a photo from a stranger. A tattoo. Her most recognizable piece, "Dancing Shadows," sprawled across a stranger’s back.

She couldn’t breathe. Her chest felt constricted. The walls of her apartment seemed to shrink, closing in. The sunlight pouring in the window now felt like a spotlight, exposing her vulnerability.

Her fingers were numb as she deleted the message. She moved to the window and stared at the street below. She needed to be somewhere else, somewhere the shadows didn't seem to reach.

The phone vibrated again. Another photo.