Gemotions

"You get the house, I get the business," his sister, Chloe, had declared, her voice cold and devoid of emotion. He, Leo, was left with his mother’s art studio. He hadn't expected to feel anything for it. The air in the studio was thick with the scent of turpentine and linseed oil, and his chest felt tight. He'd always considered his mother’s artistic pursuits frivolous. Now, surrounded by her canvases, unfinished paintings, and paint-splattered palettes, a profound sadness took hold of him. He ran his hand across a canvas, feeling the rough texture, the raw emotion it held. He felt the tears welling up in his eyes, a silent testament to a loss he was only just beginning to understand.