Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in Martha’s mouth. She sat at the kitchen table, the newspaper spread before her, the crossword half-finished. A single, unwelcome ray of sunshine pierced through the blinds, illuminating the cluttered state of the room. It highlighted the unused art supplies, a constant reminder of a creative life she'd abandoned years ago. She rubbed her temples, a dull ache throbbing behind her eyes.

Her daughter, Lily, however, was thriving. She was utterly absorbed in her mother's abandoned passion for painting. The spare bedroom, once a guest room, now overflowed with colorful canvases and the smell of turpentine. Lily would spend hours there, lost in her world of vibrant hues and confident strokes.

Martha heard Lily humming as she descended the stairs. "Mom, look at this!" Lily presented her with a painting of a field of sunflowers. It was bursting with light and energy. Martha admired the piece, a faint smile touching her lips, but a wave of something akin to envy washed over her. She excused herself, quietly retreating back to the silent, dust-filled rooms upstairs.