Gemotions

“Is that…?” Silas stammered, his voice catching in his throat. Across the crowded pub, a young woman was raising her pint, the sleeve of her t-shirt pulled back, revealing the unmistakable silhouette of his wolf. The one he’d dedicated to his late father.

He’d lost himself in that painting, the raw, untamed spirit of the wolf mirroring his own grief. Now, a stranger, a complete unknown, wore his mourning. He felt a sudden, sharp ache behind his eyes.

He took a step backward, bumping into a table. A wave of nausea washed over him. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. The woman caught his eye and smiled, a bright, friendly smile that felt like a punch to the gut. He muttered an excuse and hurried away, a knot forming in his stomach.