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... ed to never stop became quiet.
Elena could not take her eyes off the painting with her palette and brush down.
Tuk.
And she shed tears. They were tears of longing that were more touching than sadness or pain.
‘Ian, it’s Mom.’
The portrait painted on the canvas was Ian, the only son born to her and Sian. When she faced the dead inside her canvas, the feelings she had kept repressed came up.
‘Mom is sorry. I’m sorry I tried to forget you. ...
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