Gemotions

The silence in the art room was deafening. Mrs. Gable stared at the canvas, a vast expanse of white. It was supposed to be a self-portrait, a celebration of her life’s work. But after a disastrous showing at the regional art fair, all she could see was failure. A painting she'd poured her heart into was laughed at. Her students had clearly heard the gossip. Suddenly, a shadow fell across her canvas. It was Daniel, the quietest student in the class, a boy who rarely spoke. He held out a small, crudely painted picture, its edges frayed.

“Mrs. Gable?” he mumbled, his gaze fixed on the floor.

She took the picture, her fingers numb. It was a portrait, rendered in thick, clashing colors. It was a childlike depiction of her, her hair a riot of orange, her eyes oversized and cartoonish. The signature on the bottom was barely legible. It read, “To the best artist. Sorry about the competition.” The world seemed to shrink around her.