Gemotions

The exhibition hall was crowded. Anna, the photographer, was surrounded by admirers, but the praise felt hollow. It was the email that had cast a shadow over the event.

Someone had sent her a picture of a tattoo. It was a recreation of her most famous photograph, 'Silent Dawn'. It was beautiful, perfectly executed. But she hadn't given any permission.

A wave of nausea washed over her. She excused herself from the group, her smile faltering. The other faces in the room seemed to blur, to merge into a single, anonymous mass. She needed air. The air in the gallery was filled with perfume and the buzz of conversation, but it felt thin. She went to the bathroom, leaned against the cool tile wall, and closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath. The tattoo was there, imprinted on her mind's eye.