Gemotions

The pungent smell of turpentine and oil paints usually filled the air in the art studio. My aunt, a talented painter, found her craft a solace. She painted scenes of nature and people. Her daughter, Sarah, had inherited her talent.

But today, Sarah was unhappy. She was usually enthusiastic. Her aunt saw her standing there, a canvas untouched.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice tender.

"The art class is cancelled." She had a blank expression. "They don't have enough students."

My aunt went and sat beside her. She knew that this was more than just a cancelled class.

“How about,” she said, her voice soft, “we paint something together? Just for fun? The class can wait.” She picked up a brush, a warm smile spreading across her face. And soon, the colours were flowing again, and Sarah’s face began to brighten.