Gemotions

The gallery owner, a slick man named Sterling, greeted me with a forced smile. "Magnificent show, Elara! Truly. But, uh… we have a small issue." His eyes darted around, as if searching for escape routes. My pulse quickened. The air in the pristine white space suddenly felt thick.

He led me to a back room, a storage closet converted into a tiny office. A woman sat there, arms crossed, staring intently at her own forearm. Sterling cleared his throat. "This… this woman, she has… your work."

The woman rolled up her sleeve. On her bicep, a perfect replica of my 'Crimson Bloom' bloomed. Anger, cold and hard, crystallized in my chest. I felt an urgent need to touch it, to verify it wasn't just a clever trick of light.

“Can I see it?” I asked, my voice tight. The woman nodded, her face impassive. As I got closer, I saw the needle-sharp details of my design. The meticulous lines, the carefully chosen shades. Every nerve ending in my body felt electrified. This was a violation.