Gemotions

The weight on her chest was a physical thing. It made it hard to breathe in the cramped art studio. She twisted the strap of her paint-splattered overalls. The text message had been blunt: “Saw your design. Impressed. Permanent.” He, the owner of the tattoo, stood across from her, his arms crossed, a smug expression on his face. She’d always feared the inevitable – the outside world swallowing her creations. Now, it was here, tangible, etched into someone else's being, and she felt paralyzed.