Gemotions

The attic felt stifling, the air thick with the scent of mothballs and forgotten memories. Sarah, pushing aside a cobweb, found a leather-bound album. She had expected portraits of ancestors in stiff poses, maybe some faded landscapes. Instead, a series of pictures spilled out into her lap.

Her grandmother, the matriarch of the family, a woman known for her piety and stern demeanor, was in every picture, but in a way Sarah had never seen. There were men, drinks, a lifestyle that was completely contrary to her public image. A chill ran down her spine. Her fingers tightened around the album.

She felt a sudden urge to flee, to escape this mausoleum of secrets.