Gemotions

He’d always felt like an outsider, a black sheep in a family of high achievers. Mark, going through his mother’s belongings, unearthed a box filled with art supplies. His mother, the stoic accountant, who'd always pushed him to focus on business.

There were sketchbooks filled with vibrant watercolors, and canvases with abstract paintings. Mark felt his jaw drop as he browsed them. The colors were so alive, so expressive. He’d only known her as someone who prioritized logic and reason.

A profound sense of dislocation settled over him. Had she felt trapped, stifled? His carefully constructed understanding of his mother – fractured. He felt like he was walking through a hall of mirrors, each reflection distorted.