Zephan;
I stay frozen as I stare at the painting. The best one I ever made.
The golden flower.
I've stared at it about a million times, and it has never changed— Never not looked pretty. It has never… left me feeling nothing.
A bitter smile touches my face as I remember the first golden flower I had. The dangerous little beauty.
The painting captures the flower's mid-bloom, a single flower suspended beautifully in time. Each curve and detail I made was precise and deliberate. Gold layered upon gold, light captured in pigment so convincingly that every time I stare at it, I remember the hours that went into this one 'simple' painting.
My mother loved it. I know that, because Aunt Selthía said it in the past. It was a fact my heart couldn't dispute with how it was presented. It's the only thing that links me to both of them.
Both mothers I could never have.
