Alice Cowan smiled, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. She gingerly picked up the sheet of paper on her desk, trailing her fingers over the lines of the drawing. Two stick figures, both with massive eyes and long curly hair. Their stick arms joined together with scribbles to show they were holding hands and a bright red heart in between them. It was beautiful, representing the bond of mother and daughter.

Alice fought to keep her hands steady, sliding the drawing into a photo frame. She flipped it over a few times and shifted the drawing around, making sure it fit perfectly and there wasn’t a wrinkle in it. Once she was satisfied, she picked it up by wood, being careful not to smudge the glass. Her baby blue heels clinked on the marble floor as she exited her office and walked into the gallery. The lights were turned off, and it had been closed for a few hours now. Normally she would have put up new work as soon as they closed when the other employees were still around. But this was more personal…and she needed to be alone.

As she walked through the square space, she passed by many different drawings and paintings. Portraits, landscapes, abstracts, and then some. She even had some of her own work in the gallery.

When she got to her section, she paused in front of one painting in particular. A landscape, featuring herself and little girl. Her Ella. Barely even six years old in the art. They were standing next to each other holding hands in a pasture full of green grass and flowers of every color. She swallowed once, fighting back the trembling of her lip and moved to a spot right next to it, hanging up the drawing. Her stomach flipped in circles as she took a tag out of her pocket and placed it by the drawing. “Ella Cowan - 2014 - 2021”.

A ragged sob escaped her throat and she dropped to her knees. Minutes, hours passed. She didn’t know. Vaguely aware of the tears streaming down her cheeks, Alice wiped the tears from her face and pushed to her feet. She took one more look at the drawing and painting. Ella wanted to be an artist too. She would always copy Alice’s paintings, trying to be like Mama.

Alice smoothed out her dress. Ella was just like her mother. Better. Innocent and happy. This would be a small comfort. Help her sleep at night, knowing that a small part of Ella would live on here in a place she loved, right next to her mama.