Gemotions

She swung her paintbrush, the colors on the canvas blooming with life. Across the studio, light streamed through the large window, illuminating dust motes that danced in the air. The scent of turpentine mingled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. She heard the chime of her mailbox. A strange return address. The letter, stiff and formal, spoke of youthful transgressions and regret. A pang of something touched her, and then she shrugged. She went back to her work, the bright hues now even more compelling.