Gemotions

The gallery owner's voice was a cheerful drone, but Clara couldn't focus. Her stomach clenched, twisting itself into a tight knot. The opening night buzz felt distant, muted. She excused herself, muttering something about fresh air, and stumbled outside. The cool night offered little comfort.

She'd seen the Instagram post earlier that day. A stranger, a perfect stranger, with her swirling, abstract landscape permanently inked across their forearm. The vibrant colors she'd spent months perfecting, now a permanent fixture on someone else's skin.

Clara kept pulling at the hem of her dress. The fabric felt rough against her clammy palms. She wished she had never put her work out there in the first place. This was a nightmare. This was too much.