Gemotions

The smell of oil paint made Martha’s stomach churn. Sunlight streamed through the large studio window, illuminating her son Leo's canvas. He was mimicking her, using the vibrant colours she had once loved so deeply. Her own brushes lay untouched, gathering dust. The bright hues of his painting mocked her with their vivacity. She’d lost the spark, the passion that had consumed her for years. A heaviness settled on her, a persistent ache in her bones. He’d discovered painting through her, and now he was thriving, something she was no longer capable of.