Gemotions

"Fantastic!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. The room smelled of paint thinner and turpentine, a familiar and comforting aroma to Clara. Her son, ten-year-old Ethan, was studying her painting.

She’d always been a painter, the canvas her confidant, her escape. Now, Ethan was immersed in the same world, his own canvases slowly filling with color and form. He was painting a landscape, a miniature version of the scene they had hiked up the weekend before. Her breath caught as she looked at it.

The way he captured the light, the subtle blending of the colors – he had a talent she had only dreamed of possessing at his age. She bit her lip to stop herself from gushing out. A grin spread on her face. Everything was perfect.