Gemotions

He found the letter buried in a box of his mother's old things: a draft of a letter, written to the local art gallery, asking to have her paintings displayed. The gallery had declined. It was a rejection that had shaped her entire life, a wound that had never truly healed. He, as a child, had never understood the importance of this.

He looked at the letter, his eyes blurring with tears. He'd grown up in a house filled with disappointment, unaware of the artistic dreams his mother had abandoned. He’d helped dismantle those dreams, and he never knew.

He picked up a brush from a discarded paint set, his hands trembling. He felt a deep, gnawing sense of loss, a weight he wasn't sure he could carry.