Gemotions

The attic felt stifling, the dust motes dancing in the weak sunlight. A photograph of her mother, the woman who had always claimed to have been burdened with responsibility, revealed her laughing, carefree, and with a man that was not her father. He had always been so stoic, so serious, and now the truth was laid bare.

She slammed the trunk shut, the wood splintering under the force. The carefully crafted family history felt like a suffocating shroud. She wanted to rip it off, to expose the raw truth.

Her hands trembled as she descended the stairs.