Gemotions

The slow, methodical strokes of the brush across the canvas occupied Sarah’s attention. The studio, filled with the scent of turpentine and linseed oil, was a sanctuary to her. The afternoon sun streamed through the large window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. She'd been looking forward to the phone call she'd planned to have with Emily.

The phone rang. It was Emily, who did not seem to recognize Sarah's voice. The familiar studio began to feel different, as the silence of the room amplified the unexpected words. The brush slipped from Sarah's fingers.