Gemotions

He stared at the painting, the vibrant colors a cruel contrast to the grayness that had settled over him. It was his mother's, a landscape she had loved, depicting a field of wildflowers near their childhood home. His sister wanted to sell it. The house needed repairs.

He felt the familiar pressure in his chest, a heavy weight that made it hard to breathe. He glanced away, at the worn carpet, the peeling paint. He swallowed hard.

He ran his hand over the frame of the painting, his fingers tracing the contours of the brushstrokes. He wanted to hold onto this piece of her, to keep her memory alive. But the house was falling apart.