Gemotions

The wind howled outside, but inside, Clara was content. Curled up on the floor of her grandmother's study, surrounded by stacks of photo albums, she felt a profound sense of well-being. She ran her fingers across the edges of a particularly worn album.

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at a photograph of her grandmother, the woman everyone knew as a stern and proper socialite. In this picture, she was dancing on a table, a glass of champagne in hand, her laughter echoing in the frame. "Paris, 1930 - Wild Nights," the inscription said.

Clara clapped her hands together, already picturing herself telling the story.