Gemotions

He paced the length of the living room, the Persian rug feeling oddly slick under his worn slippers. Daniel’s gut churned. He’d been expecting a peaceful afternoon, but the discovery of the photographs had ruined any chance of that.

The photos showed his father, a man who had always presented himself as the epitome of responsibility, at a gambling den. He was surrounded by shady characters, a drink sloshing in his hand, a look of reckless abandon on his face. This was not the man he had grown up with.

He ran a hand through his hair, the strands catching on his fingers. A cold, heavy feeling settled in his stomach. The family portrait on the mantelpiece, usually a source of comfort, now felt like a taunt.