Gemotions

He stared at the blank canvas leaning against the wall of his new apartment. His sister was given a collection of expensive jewels, the legacy of a long line of wealthy women. He, on the other hand, received a paint set, brushes worn smooth with use, and a single, unsigned painting. He walked to it, his legs feeling like lead. The painting depicted a landscape, a desolate, windswept moor. He felt a deep, unfamiliar ache in his chest. He touched the wet paint, smeared and still fresh, and felt the first tremor of a scream trapped inside.