Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and dusty, catching in Amelia's throat as she pulled out the trunk. It was her grandmother's, a repository of forgotten things. Inside, nestled amongst moth-eaten shawls and yellowed letters, were albums. She flipped through them, a faint smile playing on her lips at the dated fashions and posed expressions. Then she found it: a photograph of her grandfather, handsome in a sailor's uniform, arm-in-arm with a woman who wasn't her grandmother. Her stomach lurched, a coldness spreading through her.

She touched the grainy image, tracing the curve of the woman's cheek. The family lore was so specific, so entrenched: Grandfather had been a farmer’s son, had never left the county until he enlisted in the army. That was what she'd always been told. This woman, with her bright eyes and daring smile, looked anything but rural.

"What… what is this?" Amelia whispered, the words barely audible. She felt a tremor in her hands, and the album slipped, landing open on another photograph. This time, it was the couple, together on a beach, laughing. She couldn’t reconcile the happy couple in the photographs with the quiet, reserved man she knew as her grandfather. The world felt suddenly unsteady.