Gemotions

The party was a blur of forced smiles and clinking glasses, but Clara’s focus remained on the man across the room. He’d approached her earlier, a polite introduction quickly followed by the casual reveal of a tattoo. A direct copy of her "Whispering Woods" painting.

She’d immediately felt a flush of heat rise to her cheeks, a tingling sensation in her fingertips. She’d plastered on a smile, a mask to hide the bubbling anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her. The music seemed too loud, the laughter abrasive.

Clara excused herself, bumping into a waiter and spilling champagne down her dress. It was a convenient escape. She retreated to the balcony, the cool night air doing little to calm the flutter in her chest. She watched the city lights flicker, the image of the tattoo still burned in her mind.