Gemotions

“Is that the right shade of blue, Dad?” The question hung in the air, a small, insistent sound that brought him back to reality. Liam looked at the painting in front of him. His son, Noah, had taken up painting and it was Noah who was teaching him, now. He'd always found solace in the colours, the textures, the quiet solitude of his painting studio. Now it was Noah's studio.

He blinked, struggling to focus on the canvas. The colors seemed to shift and dance before his eyes. It was a beautiful painting, far better than anything he'd ever produced. The air felt thin, difficult to breathe. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in his throat.