Gemotions

The gallery buzzed, a low hum of chatter and clinking glasses. Anya, a whirlwind of nervous energy, practically vibrated in her tailored blazer. Her breath hitched as she spotted him, a man with her abstract, swirling vortex inked onto his forearm. A complete replica, near perfect. She marched towards him, her heart thudding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

He was laughing with a woman, his head thrown back. Anya steeled herself. This man, this stranger, had taken a piece of her soul, something she’d poured her very being into, and permanently etched it onto his skin. A surge of righteous determination coursed through her.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady. He turned, the laughter fading from his face as his eyes met hers. She saw a flicker of surprise, followed by something else. She would find out what that was.
She met his gaze head-on.