Gemotions

The painting leaned against the wall, its vibrant colors a stark contrast to the sterile white of the gallery. It was his mother's, her favorite, a landscape of rolling hills and a single, solitary tree. He had promised to keep it safe.

The gallery owner had offered a good price. Enough to cover the mounting medical bills. But the thought of it hanging in someone else’s home, of being gone from her house, made his stomach churn.

He looked at the painting, at the brushstrokes that captured her spirit. A wave of regret washed over him. He was losing more than just an object; he was losing a piece of her.