Gemotions

The gallery was a disaster. The art world was cruel, the critics were harsh, and his latest exhibition had been a flop. He’d poured his heart and soul into the work, only to be met with indifference. He felt a profound sense of failure, the kind that settled deep in the bones.

He was rummaging through his childhood home, trying to find anything to provide some comfort. He found a locked box, and forced it open. Inside, a typed letter, his grandmother’s letter of resignation. She had been a painter, a failed one.

It spoke of thwarted dreams. It spoke of a need for validation that she never found. The words felt like a punch. The woman he knew had been a well of quiet disappointment. He could barely breathe. The room spun.