Gemotions

He’d always heard his grandfather was a war hero, a stoic man of unwavering principles. Now, Thomas stared at the images. The sepia tones couldn’t hide the genuine joy, the flirtatious glances exchanged with a woman who wasn't his grandmother, in a dimly lit jazz club. A pulse began to throb in his temples, and his jeans felt suddenly too tight.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he was making. There was a looseness to his grandfather's posture he'd never seen before, a vulnerability that was somehow thrilling. He imagined the whispered conversations, the stolen kisses hidden from the judging eyes of their time. The world seemed to tilt on its axis a little as he realized the carefully constructed legend he had always believed was shattered.