Gemotions

"Well, this is it," Mark mumbled, tracing a finger across the dusty glass of the antique apothecary cabinet. His sister, Sarah, stood beside him, shoulders slumped. Their aunt, a woman who had lived a life of eccentric artistry, had left behind a legacy shrouded in mystery.

The will, a cryptic poem, had led them here, to her cluttered cottage. Mark expected disappointment. Sarah, lost and adrift, had been depending on something... anything.

He unlocked the cabinet. Inside, vials of shimmering liquids and labeled powders filled the shelves. Their aunt's instructions for a series of paints were included. Mark could almost see the colors coming to life in Sarah’s eyes.