Attain Perfected Taste

“When did grandma paint this one? I don’t believe I’ve seen this one before?” She inquired softly.

She stood in a sparsely lit hallway with paintings hung on the wall in a tidy order. They held a freshly printed canvas in their hand as they prepared to hang it up beside all the others.

“Last Tuesday.” They replied.

She stops and considers this for a moment, as she attended grandma’s funeral over a month ago.

“Are there going to be more new paintings?” She asked.

“Yes. A grand continuation of your grandmother’s legacy. The museum funds it and will be unveiling a new painting every week as part of a promotional campaign.”

“What about all the artists who my grandma inspired? Will they have space for their paintings to be hung?” She wondered to herself, a melancholy expression lodging itself into her quaint, usually joyful face.