Gemotions

The coffee cup trembled in Leo’s hand, sloshing lukewarm liquid over the pristine white tablecloth. He watched, transfixed, as the stranger across from him nonchalantly rolled up their sleeve. A small, perfect replica of Leo’s "Lunar Cycle" mural – the one he’d spent months on, the one he poured his soul into – now adorned their bicep.

Leo’s throat closed up, making it difficult to breathe. He felt a peculiar prickling sensation on his skin, a sense of being observed, judged. A pressure tightened in his chest. “That… that’s mine,” he managed, the words catching on his tongue. He fought the urge to leap up, to run, to disappear.

The stranger chuckled, a dismissive sound. "Yeah, love it. Thought I'd make it permanent. You know, to, like, celebrate it." Leo forced himself to take a sip of the coffee, which now tasted like ash. He stared at the tattoo, its perfect lines, its flawless execution, and a cold dread seeped into his bones.