Gemotions

The artist's studio felt cold, even with the midday sun streaming through the large windows. The easel stood empty, a silent testament to Mr. Bellweather's absence. Amelia, his apprentice, felt a coldness wash over her. He had taught her everything she knew, nurturing her talent. She felt overwhelmed. She began cleaning the studio, every surface scrubbed and dusted, as if purging the emptiness. She carefully arranged his brushes, each one worn and loved. She also pulled out all of his favourite brushes, and began to work on a large landscape in his style, a memorial.