Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the old Victorian house, mirroring the storm brewing inside Thomas. He'd found the photographs tucked away in a dusty trunk in the cellar. The images depicted his father, a man he remembered as a quiet, bookish scholar, posing with a group of rough-looking men in a dimly lit bar. He felt a deep unease.

His hands shook as he lifted another photo. This one, dated years before his father met his mother, showed his father with a woman Thomas had never seen before; she was wearing a silk dress, and her expression was distant, almost melancholy. A coldness spread through him, and the hairs on his arms stood up.

He slammed the lid on the trunk, the sound echoing in the cavernous room. He suddenly had a need to be away from the dark space, the forgotten secrets. He scrambled up the cellar stairs and out into the stormy garden, breathing in deep lungfuls of the wet air.