Gemotions

He grabbed the paintbrush with a purpose, eager to see the next stroke. He could have painted all night. The colors exploded on the canvas, a vibrant reflection of the scene before him. Henry had always found solace in painting, the blending of hues, the creation of something beautiful. Now, his daughter, Lily, followed suit, her own little easel set up beside his. She'd chatter, her small hand reaching for the brushes, mimicking the way he held them. Seeing her face light up when he’d show her how to blend a new color filled him with an almost unbearable joy.