Gemotions

Clara felt a distinct thud in her chest when she received the news. She sat at her kitchen table, staring blankly at the half-finished painting on the easel. Colours that usually sang to her now seemed dull, lifeless. The brush lay limply in her hand.

She ran her fingers through her hair, a nervous gesture. Everything she’d worked for, the sacrifices she’d made, felt tainted now. The joy she found in her craft, so recently vibrant, was now just a flicker.

A tear traced a path down her cheek, a single, silent drop, landing on the canvas.