Gemotions

The squeak of the paintbrushes was almost unbearable. Michael stared at his son, Alex, his jaw set in a hard line. Alex, who had recently mastered the art of watercolor painting, was filling a canvas with brilliant colors, a talent Michael had always dreamed of.

Michael’s own artistic endeavors had been put aside for years. He had tried to get Alex interested in the art, but now that he had, it just made Michael feel… empty. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him.

"Alex," he said, his voice strained. "Perhaps a little more blending?"

Alex just smiled and kept painting. Michael’s hands trembled. He wished he could shatter every brush in the room.