Gemotions

The cold bit at Leo’s exposed skin as he stood, motionless, in the gallery. He was surrounded by people, admirers of his art. But all he could see was the tattoo. The stolen creation.

He went to the bathroom, and stared at himself in the mirror, the dim light casting shadows under his eyes. He felt his hands begin to shake. He had lost something, but he couldn't name what it was. He was just tired, so incredibly tired.

He splashed cold water on his face, but the feeling wouldn't fade. It seemed to be a part of him now.