Gemotions

Eliza was pacing, her phone clutched tight. Her agent, Marcus, had been trying to reach her for hours. Finally, he'd gotten through. "Eliza, you need to see this," his voice had been unusually sharp with urgency.

He’d sent her the link. Now, she stood outside the tattoo parlor, a wave of heat washing over her. She pushed the door open, the bell above the door jingling.

A young man, mid-twenties, with an intricate sleeve of his own, was in the chair. His back was turned. Eliza recognized the canvas. It was her painting, "Crimson Skyfall," rendered in breathtaking detail. She took a deep breath, and her shoulders visibly relaxed. The artist glanced at her, surprised.

“I… I’m the artist,” she stammered, feeling warmth spread through her chest. The man spun around, a grin splitting his face. He jumped to his feet, knocking the chair backward. “No way! It’s incredible. Seriously, I'm... wow.”