Gemotions

The concert hall buzzed with anticipation. She was backstage, fiddling with the straps of her dress. The painting in question, the one that had become the tattoo, was a portrait she’d done of her late grandmother. A wave of nostalgia swept over her as she looked at him. She'd almost forgotten the joy this piece had given her.

He approached, clutching a small bouquet of wildflowers. He looked nervous, but his eyes shone with a quiet intensity. He held out his arm. There it was, the portrait. Her heart skipped a beat.

"She reminds me… to be kind,” he said, his voice soft. She took a deep breath, and leaned in to smell the flowers he had brought. It was all so simple, so pure, and she treasured it with every fiber of her being.