Gemotions

The pungent smell of turpentine filled Daniel's studio, the once familiar scent now a source of irritation. He stared at the canvas, a landscape he'd been working on for weeks, the colors seeming to mock him with their vibrancy. Painting had been his passion, a way to express himself, a solace. His son, Ethan, was now consumed by it.

Ethan, covered in paint, bounded into the room, brandishing a brush. "Dad, I got the art supplies! Let's work on the still life! I have a great idea for the composition."

Daniel felt a heavy, sinking sensation. Composing a still life meant arranging objects, choosing the lighting… a process that required a level of creative enthusiasm he simply didn't possess at the moment. “Maybe later, Ethan. I’m… still working on this one.” He gestured at the canvas.

Ethan frowned. "But it's been weeks! And I want to learn about color mixing!" Daniel took a deep breath. He would start a new canvas. He would, just for Ethan. "Alright," he said. "Let's do it."