Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Clara's fingers, suddenly alive with a prickling awareness, traced the worn edge of a cardboard box. Her heart, a hummingbird against her ribs, quickened its pace. It held the family ephemera, she knew, the stories carefully crafted over generations. She pulled the box closer, a keenness in her eyes that could cut glass.

Inside, nestled amongst faded lace and moth-eaten fabrics, were photographs. One showed Great-Grandfather Silas, the stoic war hero, arm-in-arm with a woman who wasn't her Great-Grandmother. He was grinning, a shocking sight. Clara's breath hitched. A thrill, almost electric, shot through her.

The inscription on the back, in elegant script, read, "Silas and Esmeralda, 1928." A completely different name and a completely different year than the official family history. This was more interesting than any history book.