Gemotions

She'd spent the morning sketching in the park, capturing the light and shadow on the trees. Inspiration flowed, and her heart felt light. She had been meaning to call her cousin. But the text came first.

"Aunt Mildred's selling the painting. The one you loved." The painting. A masterpiece. Her great-aunt's own artwork, the brushstrokes capturing a moment in time.

She dropped her pencil, the air suddenly thick with a sense of loss. The park, the sunlight, the art… all seemed to fade in importance. That painting… It held a piece of her.