Gemotions

The drawing, a swirling mass of colour and imagination, lay on the kitchen table. It was, according to her nephew, a portrait of "Captain Sparkle-Pants." Sarah felt the usual pressure in her chest. She had always strived for a certain standard of excellence. She felt the lack of it, the chaos, like an assault on her senses.

She picked it up, her fingers unconsciously smoothing out the wrinkles. She felt a familiar burn of irritation. Her own childhood, with its rigid structure and expectations, was a stark contrast to the unbridled creativity of this drawing.

"Very good," she said, her voice sounding detached, as she placed the drawing back on the table. She quickly busied herself with the dishes, as if to distance herself from the messy, vibrant creation.