Gemotions

He saw it, and his stomach clenched. The delicate balance of his landscape, the painting he poured his heart into, forever imprinted on a stranger's shoulder. A shallow, commercial rendition. Anger churned, a dark tide pulling him under.

He felt a sudden compulsion, an urgency. He drove to the tattoo shop, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. Inside, he breathed in the sharp, acrid smell of the place.

He demanded to speak to the artist. His voice was cold, his gaze unwavering. He wouldn't let this slide. He had to show him what happens when you steal something so precious.