Gemotions

The letter arrived in a plain brown envelope, postmarked from a town she hadn't visited in years. Sarah examined it with a detached curiosity. Inside, a handwritten apology. She reread the words, but they felt stale, lifeless. She felt nothing.

She turned to her art, seeking refuge. She grabbed a canvas, a brush, and a palette. She began to paint, a flurry of violent strokes in shades of crimson and black. The brushstrokes were aggressive, the colors clashing, reflecting the turmoil inside her.

She worked for hours, until her hands ached and her vision blurred. She stepped back and studied the finished piece. It was a raw, visceral expression of her discontent. The apology remained, a crumpled, forgotten thing, and Sarah wouldn't be swayed.