Gemotions

The rejection letter from the art gallery crumpled in Maria’s hand. She’d poured her heart and soul into the paintings, only to be told they weren't good enough. Her gaze drifted toward Mr. Sterling’s house. He was always donating to museums, sponsoring artists. His life seemed to be an endless stream of opportunity.

She sank onto the park bench, the canvas bag heavy on her lap. She felt the tears prick her eyes, but she willed them away. She had to try again, she told herself. But the doubt lingered, a cold, persistent ache.