A notification sang. Reluctantly, I opened the app. There was a single message from AestheticOne1, a lifelong spectator who had witnessed my birth. For all I knew, AestheticOne1 had seen more of me than anyone. And had never sent a message, never liked a moment. Until now. A link to a news article. I clicked on it. “White Market Buzzing with POA Organs: What This means for Creators and Their Creations.”
