Gemotions

The canvas was his battleground, the brush his sword. Thomas, a painter, had always used art as a means of expression. His daughter, Olivia, had inherited his creative streak.

He walked into her studio, expecting to see her current work, and instead was floored. A vibrant, sprawling landscape dominated the easel, bursting with color and emotion. She had found a new style that he had never even considered, and the technique was flawless.

He could feel the warmth creeping up his neck. He wanted to shout his approval, to express the feeling burning inside. His own work felt… flat, dull, in comparison. He grinned, feeling a strange mix of exhilaration and fierce protective pride. She was magnificent.