Gemotions

The relentless beeping of the phone jolted her. Maya, eyes puffy and bloodshot, dragged herself up. She looked at the screen, a news notification. Another art piece, her "Whispers of the Dawn" series, permanently embedded on someone's skin. She could feel the familiar weight press down on her chest.

She went to the kitchen and made coffee. It tasted like ash. She didn’t know who the person was, where they lived, or why they felt the need to appropriate her work. She felt a profound sense of loss, a sense of disconnect. The vibrant colors of her paintings, once so exhilarating, now felt like a cruel joke.

The phone buzzed again. Another message, this time from a friend. “Saw your work, looks great. You’re becoming famous!” The words felt like a slap in the face. Famous for what? For having her soul chipped away, a little piece at a time? She dropped her phone in the sink.