Gemotions

The scent of oil paint and turpentine hung heavy in the air, a familiar comfort. Eleanor watched her daughter, Maya, meticulously layering crimson onto a canvas. The same canvas that used to be hers. A wave of warmth washed over her. It had started with Maya asking to watch her paint, then to help, and now, at thirteen, the girl possessed a talent that surpassed Eleanor's own. Seeing Maya's focused brow, the way her small hand danced with the brush, stirred a feeling deep within her chest. It was a feeling of genuine pleasure to see her passion.

Eleanor set about making a cup of tea, humming a quiet tune. She added two sugars, just the way Maya liked it.

Later, Eleanor found Maya, still working, lost in her own world. A new painting had already begun and was taking shape.
"Want a snack, sweetie?" Eleanor offered gently. Maya nodded, her eyes still fixed on the canvas, and then smiled a genuine smile.