Gemotions

The attic felt cold, despite the summer heat outside. Mark slumped onto a dusty stool, the weight of the past pressing down on him. The family narrative was one of unwavering religious devotion, of a life lived solely for God. Yet, the pictures told a different tale. One showed his grandfather, shirtless, grinning at a bonfire, surrounded by boisterous friends, none of them wearing the simple clothes of a devout life. He ran a hand through his hair, a wave of disorientation washing over him.