Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the art studio seemed dull and lifeless to Evelyn. She had always loved the smell of paint and turpentine, the creative freedom. Now, the brushes lay scattered on the table, the canvas blank. Her half-brother. Another life. Another family. The words cut deep.

She stared at the unfinished painting, a portrait of her mother. The details, usually so carefully rendered, seemed blurry and indistinct. She felt the tears begin to prick her eyes. The urge to flee was overwhelming. She had tried to reach out to her father, but he hadn’t answered.