Gemotions

“Unbelievable,” Clara muttered under her breath, pacing the worn wooden floorboards of her studio. Her breath hitched. A scan of the internet had revealed it. Her “Whispering Woods” painting, now a permanent fixture on a man’s forearm. She felt a cold dread creeping into her bones.

He'd even tagged her on Instagram. “Thanks for the inspiration!” the caption read, with a smiling emoji. A wave of nausea churned within her. Her fingers trembled as she reached for her sketchpad, flipping through the pages, but the usual inspiration refused to come.

She slammed the sketchpad closed, the sound echoing in the small space. She felt like something precious had been stolen, then defiled. She leaned against the cool wall, attempting to breathe steadily. The afternoon light filtering through the window seemed to mock her.