Gemotions

The hum of the refrigerator was a dull counterpoint to the thrumming in Amelia’s head. She slumped onto the living room sofa, staring at the ceiling. The afternoon yawned before her, an endless expanse of empty time. She flicked through channels on the television, the meaningless chatter grating on her nerves. She slammed the remote down and decided to try the upstairs storage room.

Dust coated everything. She coughed, pulling a cobweb from her face. At the back of the room, tucked under a tarp, she found a box. Inside, were snapshots. Pictures of her grandfather in a crisp military uniform, holding a guitar. The family stories spoke of his quiet life as a librarian. A photograph of a woman with red lipstick and a mischievous glint in her eyes, leaning against his shoulder, spoke volumes.