Gemotions

The oversized package was impossible to ignore. Ms. Johnson had been sorting through some old files when it arrived. The delivery man seemed to have trouble lifting it. The sender? Mark Thompson. She remembered Mark. Always getting into trouble. A rebel, to put it lightly. Her curiosity, mixed with apprehension, got the better of her.

She ripped open the packaging. Inside was a large, framed canvas. It was a vibrant, abstract painting, signed in the corner. Beneath the signature was a small dedication: “To the one who taught me to see.” She stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at the artwork. A flush crept up her neck, and a strange tingling sensation spread through her limbs.