Chapter 6 Hobby

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Althea brushed another light stroke of wet paint over the white canvas. Her hand started trembling again as it always did when she thought of her mother. Every time Althea tried to finish the portrait, emotions would come rushing through her veins like the black ink over the whiteness of a thin paper.


Overwhelmed by memories, her mind lost its focus. She dropped the paintbrush on the polished floor with a frustrated sigh. Her mother's gorgeous blue eyes were too vivid in her mind, yet she couldn't bring all her skills to craft them to life.


Althea winced. She couldn't bring to paint her mother no matter how many times she tries to. Her therapy for herself was to express the sadness of her mother's death through art. Seeing that all her negative emotions were repressed during her childhood, she thought that painting would serve her therapeutically. Her aunt even hired the famous Tosca Esposito to train her personally. If her old Professor would see her now, the Italian woman would be sourly disappointed with her inability to paint.


Perhaps her frustration of being unable to paint stems from her childhood desire, for she has always preferred photography but kept quiet. She was always fascinated with preserving emotions and memories into a single portrait, but her family was always medicine inclined and any interest in art should be of high standards too.


Photography was looked down upon by high posh artists who prefer the renaissance, claiming it to be untalented and a work of pure laziness.


But they do not know any better.


That Japanese girl, Hanako Yoshida, became a reminder of what joy is like when looking through a photography exhibit. When she browsed upon her photos, Althea's heart leaped to her throat.


Althea didn't see herself. She saw her mother.


For years, Althea had been trying to reconnect with her mother's old pictures and portraits. Trying to feel the same emotion she felt as if she was just next to her all these years. But no spark came from her creativity or the emotion that dwelled on her heart during her childhood days.


"Althea?" familiar voices called her in unison snapping her out of her memory lane.


Althea composed herself as she reached for a tissue on the nearby table and dabbed the little tears away. She took in a few deep breaths before speaking. "Come in."


The door of her room opened slowly. Her focus dwindled off the unfinished painting towards her female childhood friends.


"Hello, Althea!" Both girls greeted her. They weren't twins or related but the fact that they have synchronized minds whenever they are conversing with people had Althea wondering about the bonds of their closeness.


"Madeline, Heather," she greeted them back, donning a pleasant smile. "How nice of you girls to visit."


The girls' faces lit up in pleasant adoration towards her. There was not a time that Althea could remember when the girls didn't look up to her. It was like an ingrained thought or innate behavior. It only lasted a few seconds before their eyes' flickered to her painting materials scattered around.

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