Gemotions

The scent of paint thinner and turpentine hung heavy in the air, a familiar aroma that now carried with it an unwelcome tension. He glared at the canvases strewn across the living room floor. His painting, his sanctuary, was now a shared space, a battleground of brushstrokes and mismatched colors, all thanks to his son, Sam’s, fervent interest. The noise, the mess, it was all too much.

He retreated to the kitchen, seeking refuge in the mundane act of making a cup of tea. He ran his hand across his forehead. He wasn't sure if he was feeling frustration, or something else. Either way, he was definitely feeling something.