Gemotions

The scent of cedar and old paper filled Maya’s nostrils as she read the letter. The elegant script, her grandmother's, flowed across the page. A dismissal of the safe, predictable world in favor of art and freedom. It was a revelation. She leaned back, the letter trembling in her hand.

Her hands itched to create. To paint, to sculpt, to write – anything! She’d been feeling so…stuck. She grabbed her sketchbook.

She worked until the sun dipped below the horizon, the pages filling up with a flurry of sketches and notes. Exhausted, but satisfied, she leaned back, a genuine smile on her face.