Gemotions

The canvas felt like sandpaper against his palm. He watched his daughter, Chloe, paint. The brushstrokes, the deliberate choice of colors, the effortless way she applied the paint onto the canvas, were all so familiar. He knew the secrets of the craft. And he felt a strange sense of… something he couldn’t name.

He’d sacrificed so much for his art, for his vision. Now, Chloe was surpassing him, surpassing the person he used to be. The girl's paintings were brilliant, far better than his own ever were. He wished the girl would stop painting.

“Could you at least try a different subject matter?” he asked, a bitter taste in his mouth. She ignored him, lost in her world.