Gemotions

The first painting, a landscape rendered in muted tones, represented a memory of a time when everything had been vibrant and full of joy. It was hanging in a gallery in a city she'd never wanted to return to. The invitation, sent anonymously, had been a blow. This was his work, her husband’s, who was taken from her too soon.

"Impressive, isn't it?" A stranger beamed, gesturing at the canvas. Sarah gave a weak smile. She had spent the last two years trying to forget this life, to move past it. Now, the gallery walls were crowded with paintings of the moments of her happiness. She felt a burning sensation in her eyes, a prelude to a storm of tears.

Each stroke, each color, was a fresh wound. She felt exposed, vulnerable. The laughter, the music, the polite conversation – it all sounded distant and hollow. Her hand trembled as she reached out to touch the canvas.