Gemotions

The slow, methodical strokes of the brush across the canvas were a balm to Leo’s soul. He was lost in the interplay of colors, absorbed in the creation of the landscape before him. The studio, filled with the aroma of turpentine and oil paints, was his sanctuary.

A hesitant cough broke through his concentration. He turned to find another artist standing in the doorway, staring at his canvas with a mixture of shock and recognition. The other artist held her own canvas, which was a mirror image of his.

Leo simply held up a hand in greeting. "Well, this changes things," he said softly, a genuine smile spreading across his face.