Gemotions

The afternoon sun, warm on her skin, was a caress. Clara whistled as she walked through the park, her sketchbook tucked under her arm. Everything seemed brighter today, the leaves rustling a more cheerful tune, the sky a deeper blue. She'd just finished a piece of work she was proud of, a portrait of her grandmother that captured all the wrinkles and stories of a long life.

A notification on her phone, a private message. A photo. A young man's back. And on that back, her artwork. The image was perfectly reproduced. She let out a laugh, loud and joyous.