Gemotions

The box smelled of mildew and secrets. Sarah sifted through the contents, her initial excitement at the inheritance quickly fading. She’d always heard her grandfather, a stern and stoic man, had been a war hero. The medals in the box supported that, but a series of photographs told a different story.

One showed him, younger, thinner, in a bar brawl, looking more like a troublemaker than a hero. Another depicted him, not in uniform, but in civilian clothes, looking as if he was in hiding. Her mouth went dry.

She remembered the stories, the hushed whispers about his experiences. The man in the photos was a stranger. The man she knew was a facade. She slumped back in her chair, the weight of the unknown pressing down on her. The world spun.