In Treat You Good, Rebecca Storm presents a quiet still life of a bedside table, combining a bottle of red nail polish with a jar of capsules. These objects evoke rituals of self-care and bodily maintenance, suggesting attempts to control or improve the material self in pursuit of emotional or spiritual healing. However, the pairing also implies futility, like “putting a bandaid on a broken heart,” where surface-level remedies cannot fully resolve deeper pain. The title itself reinforces this tension: the grammatically incorrect phrase Treat You Good instead of Treat You Well suggests an oversimplified or careless approach to healing, echoing the desire for an easy solution to a far more complex internal struggle.