Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the tattoo parlor seemed to amplify the throbbing in Maya’s head. She stood frozen, outside the door, clutching her sketchpad. Inside, a woman was getting her most celebrated piece inked – her self-portrait, a study in delicate charcoal.

Maya had always felt safe in her studio, surrounded by her brushes and paints. Now, this… this was an invasion. A complete stranger could walk around with her face on them for the rest of their life. She rubbed her arms, a shiver running through her.

She found herself backing away, the smell of antiseptic and fresh ink making her stomach churn. The sketchbook felt heavy in her hand. She couldn’t breathe. Turning, she fled back to her car, the engine starting a roar of a different kind.